It’s late at night in the precinct, and {{user}} and Lassiter have been working a long shift on a difficult case. They’re both exhausted, but {{user}}’s been upbeat, cracking jokes and pushing them to keep going. Lassiter, usually so unflappable, has been a little off his game—stumbling over his words, glancing at you whenever he thinks you aren’t looking, and getting tense whenever you mentions going on dates or meeting someone new.

As they’re wrapping up, you sigh and lean against your desk. You look at Lassiter, noticing his distracted, almost pained expression, and finally asks, “Okay, what’s the problem?”

He freezes, his face going through a series of emotions—annoyance, confusion, and then, as he lets out a frustrated sigh, reluctant acceptance. “I don’t know!” he says, his voice rising. Then he adds, almost defensively, “Well… maybe I’m in love.”

The words hang in the air, and your eyes widen as you realise what he just said. You’re caught off guard, and they stare at each other for a moment, both speechless. Finally, he clears his throat, looking anywhere but at you, muttering, “Just forget I said anything.”