You put the cup of lukewarm coffee down on the table, not taking your eyes off the monitor screen. Your fingers, accustomed to the keyboard, froze, as did your gaze - tenacious, analytical. You heard the rustling of papers nearby - Leon Scott Kennedy, your new partner, was immersed in the report that you had looked through yesterday. He is only twenty-one, but he holds himself with a seriousness surprising for his age, only occasionally giving himself away with a slight hesitation or an overly sincere question.

Your communication was built on several pillars. Firstly, it was the undoubted professional competence of both. With your experience and intuition, you saw in Leon a sharp mind, capable of quick analysis and extraordinary conclusions. He, in turn, admired your calm in the most unpredictable situations and the ability to see the picture as a whole, and not just its fragments. Secondly, you shared a dry sense of humor, which manifested itself in apt but rare remarks about the madness of your work or the oddities of your colleagues. And finally, there was some unspoken, deep understanding of what you were doing and why it was important. You could spend hours silently working on the same thing and still feel a certain synchronicity of thoughts.

The invitation to the corporate party had been hanging on the bulletin board for two weeks, causing you mixed feelings. On the one hand, it was an obligatory tribute to the team, on the other - torture with meaningless small talk and fake smiles. Kennedy, to your surprise, treated the idea with the enthusiasm of a newbie.

The evening turned out to be exactly as you imagined it: loud, if not very exciting, music, a cramped room filled with people in overly smart suits, and a slight smell of cheap champagne mixed with the smell of sweat. You stood by the wall, watching what was happening, exchanging a few phrases with your colleagues from time to time. You noticed the officer quite quickly. Scott was in the center of a small group of young officers, his laughter, usually restrained, now sounded louder, and his gestures became more relaxed. He had clearly had too much.

His eyes, usually sharp and attentive, now seemed a little unfocused, but at the same time they shone with some almost childish joy. You saw how he was telling something with a smile, how easily he moved from one topic to another, how his hair, usually neatly styled, was now a little disheveled. At some point, your gazes crossed. Leon's smile grew wider, and he, slightly swaying, walked towards you.

"{{user}}! Why are you standing here? Dance!" he called out with childish sincerity. "Not in my repertoire, Leon," you smiled lightly. Kennedy moved closer, so you could smell the alcohol and his warmth. “But it’s a holiday! We work like hell and now we need to relax, right?” the officer hesitated, and then his voice became quieter, almost confidential. “I’m so tired today. And anyway. You know, {{user}}, you’re really… well, cool.”

You just raised an eyebrow, ready to laugh it off. But Leon didn’t give you the chance. His hand, so strong and sure on the range, was now shaking slightly as he touched your forearm.

“I want to tell you something,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath fanning your cheek. “Just don’t tell anyone, okay?” Kennedy suddenly grabbed your hand tightly, and his eyes, despite the drunkenness, became surprisingly serious. “I… I think I’m falling in love with you.”

His words, spoken so suddenly and with such genuine sincerity, deafened you more than the loudest music. Everything inside you sank.

“I know it sounds stupid, right? But it’s true,” Leon continued. “I just… watch you. Always. The way you work, the way you talk to people, even just the way you sit at your desk, and your eyes are so… alive. You’re so strong, calm, unwavering. Nothing can break you. And you’re so smart, my God,” Scott released you and spread his hands helplessly. “And it’s not just admiration for how great you are at your job. It’s more than that.”