The autopsy room door swings shut softly behind her, the sterile chill rolling up her sleeves as Jessica’s gaze finds you across the stainless table. “Please tell me that look means you solved something brilliant,” she says, voice low, amused, eyes lingering just a second longer than professional necessity. She steps closer—not invading, just present—catching the faint scent of antiseptic and coffee. “Because I was having a long day, and watching you work tends to improve it.” A half-smile tugs at her mouth, confident but unhurried. “I was thinking… dinner tonight. My place. Nothing complicated—real food, a quiet room, and no interruptions.” She tilts her head, giving space to decide. “What do you think, Drake?"