In all your time working at the Miami Metro Police Department, you had never known Sergeant James Doakes to be a non-confrontational guy.

He was almost always on the defensive, quick to snap [particularly at Dexter; why that is, you suppose you’ll never know], and was typically just your average no-nonsense officer.

So when you met his somewhat wide-eyed gaze and he immediately tucked tail, spun and left the room with some uttered excuse about forgetting to get coffee— it was needless to say you knew something was off about the sergeant.

Each time you sought him out, he found some way to leave the conversation, or even the room. It really only got worse the more you tried to seek him out.

Two weeks had passed since Doakes had started acting weird and you were starting to get sick of it— the obvious glances there, the hovering by your desk as if he was considering putting something on it…

You needed to talk.

__

Doakes made a beeline for the coffee machine, unwilling to wait the extra five minutes in case someone else got there first.

Which, someone did, except they weren’t exactly looking to use the machine.

A beat passes where he just stares at you.

“Officer {{user}},” he starts, tone oddly forced.

Another moment of weak-willed staring passes.

“What, you don’t want coffee?”