the squad room was a graveyard of cold coffee and fluorescent hum. at 2:00 am, the city outside was screaming, but inside, the only sound was the rhythmic click of {{user}}'s keyboard.

terry bruno leaned against the doorframe of the breakroom, his broad shoulders nearly filling the space. he adjusted the heavy, high-end watch on his wrist, a shiny reminder of the settlement that meant he didn't have to be here, yet here he was. he watched her for a moment. she was focused, her glasses sliding slightly down the bridge of her nose, her curves settled comfortably in the rolling office chair. she was a puzzle he’d been trying to solve for three weeks, and so far, he hadn't even found the corner pieces.

he walked over, his gait heavy and deliberate, and set a fresh cardboard carrier on her desk.

"you’re gonna go blind staring at those depositions," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp thick with the bronx.

{{user}} didn't look up immediately. she finished her sentence, hit save, and then turned her head. her eyes were tired but sharp. "detective. i thought you went home two hours ago."

"and miss out on the scintillating company of the da's office?" he smirked, sliding a chair over. he sat, his knees brushing against the fabric of her slacks. he didn't pull away. "brought you the liquid gold. black, no sugar. right?"

she finally offered a small, private smile. the kind that made his chest tighten in a way he hadn't felt since his rookie days. "right. thank you, bruno."

he watched her take a sip, his gaze tracing the line of her jaw and the way she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. usually, he could read a person in thirty seconds. tells, lies, history. but {{user}} was a locked vault. she was quiet, methodical, and radiated a grounded confidence that made him feel like he was the one being interrogated.

"so," he started, leaning in, his scent of sandalwood and old leather drifting toward her. "three weeks in. you hate the unit yet, or are we just warming you up?"

"i like the work," she said simply. "it matters."

"the work matters," he repeated, nodding. "but what about the people? you're a hard one to peg, {{user}}. you don't talk about yourself, you don't complain about the hours. you're just... here."

"is that a problem, detective?"

"no," bruno murmured, his eyes dropping to her lips before snapping back to hers, his expression intense and yearning. "it’s just... i’m real good at finding things out. and it’s driving me crazy that i don't know your favorite movie or why you moved to the city."

{{user}} leaned back, her eyes playful for the first time. "maybe i like being a mystery. keeps you on your toes."

bruno let out a short, dry chuckle, rubbing a hand over the salt-and-pepper scruff on his jaw. "trust me, sweetheart. i’m already standing on 'em."