"I'm - I'm well aware of - of the contents of that book without needing to see it," he manages, sitting on the opposite chair and picking up his coffee.
He scowls at that laughter, but his own expression is broken into a smirk as he ducks his head. "Ah, he is and I knew it when I continued to be friends with him. I really shouldn't have said anything to him. What am I supposed to do with that book?"
He downs his coffee, letting it burn his tongue. "Besides all that, did he think I'd forgotten the breach?!"
"Fair point. Maybe he just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten." She picks up her coffee and takes a sip. "If you're not going to chuck it, just keep it in the back of your desk like that and I'm sure it'll be fine. Just remember not to send Arthur or John digging around for anything in there."
Yet, she thinks, but stops herself from saying it. As fun as it is to tease him, she's got some limits.
"He's a detective. Isn't being nosy part of the job description?" she says. "Anyway ... I'm certainly not asking for detailed updates, no more than you're comfortable giving. But I hope that whatever is going on is nice."
He sobers a little. "It is. I - read with him, which feels more intimate than anything else we've done," he explains, feeling a little like he was kissing and telling.
He does finally give her coffee to her, without spilling it on the floor.
That makes him flush even deeper. "Oh stop," he mutters, secretly pleased. He's doing something goddamn right with both of them and that seems to make the difference.
"Not one of your better diversions," she murmurs, but goes on to list off the various things she got for Christmas, ending with, "...and currently the vase has some beautiful calla lilies in it, so thank you for that."
It's not at all one of his best, but she's caught him off balance as he keeps glancing to the desk drawer where the book is stashed.
It's not as if he wasn't curious about it. But it's also not as if he - knows what the hell he wants.
The mention of the vase makes him smile. "You're welcome," he tells her with all the playful confidence he can muster. "That was one of my better ideas, I have to say."
He's all too happy to report on the less awful haul. "A pen! And ties!" he says with unbridled delight. "Records, a strange garment, and - oh, a machine I don't understand."
He stands up. "I meant to show it to you in the hopes that you might help. Shaun would be my next step." He comes back with a white noise machine.
She has to look it over for a moment before she finally realises what it is.
"Oh! It's a noise machine. Like a little fan, but all it's meant to do is make white noise. Some people like them when they sleep—they mask sounds. Probably good for masking conversations in ... well, in places like the counseling office."
"Fascinating." He leans over to inspect it. "I could certainly use something like that. Clever man, that Francis Crozier." He shakes his head. "Mm, and your inmate gave me a copy of a book he wrote."
She rolls her eyes and laughs. "Of course he did. His ego knows no bounds. On the other hand, his world is genuinely fascinating. Like fairy tales intruding on the novels of Jane Austen. And not the cute fairy tales either—the old ones full of blood and nasty bargains."
"Oh, well then I certainly will have plenty to look forward to. I think I actually have a publication that I wrote for someone once. I could give that to him. Bore him to sleep, which I think would do him a world of good," he laughs.
"As much as he drove me spare at first—and still does—I find I like him," she says. "It was something like that with O'Brien, though it took a hell of a lot longer to get there. At least I don't have to worry about Strange trying to murder me."
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She loses the battle then and laughs, shaking her head.
"I'm sorry—really, I swear," she says, not very convincingly. "I shouldn't tease. Norton's an ass. But a funny one."
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He downs his coffee, letting it burn his tongue. "Besides all that, did he think I'd forgotten the breach?!"
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"Fair point. Maybe he just wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten." She picks up her coffee and takes a sip. "If you're not going to chuck it, just keep it in the back of your desk like that and I'm sure it'll be fine. Just remember not to send Arthur or John digging around for anything in there."
Still teasing him, because she can't help it.
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"It isn't as if we - do - any of that," he adds.
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Yet, she thinks, but stops herself from saying it. As fun as it is to tease him, she's got some limits.
"He's a detective. Isn't being nosy part of the job description?" she says. "Anyway ... I'm certainly not asking for detailed updates, no more than you're comfortable giving. But I hope that whatever is going on is nice."
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He does finally give her coffee to her, without spilling it on the floor.
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She smiles—beams, really. "I hope you don't mind me saying—that sounds incredibly sweet."
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That only makes her grin more. "You two. It's adorable, honestly."
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"What did you get for this Christmas?" he wonders.
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"Not one of your better diversions," she murmurs, but goes on to list off the various things she got for Christmas, ending with, "...and currently the vase has some beautiful calla lilies in it, so thank you for that."
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It's not as if he wasn't curious about it. But it's also not as if he - knows what the hell he wants.
The mention of the vase makes him smile. "You're welcome," he tells her with all the playful confidence he can muster. "That was one of my better ideas, I have to say."
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"It's delightful. And ingenious. What about you? I mean, apart from Norton's little ... joke?"
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He stands up. "I meant to show it to you in the hopes that you might help. Shaun would be my next step." He comes back with a white noise machine.
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She has to look it over for a moment before she finally realises what it is.
"Oh! It's a noise machine. Like a little fan, but all it's meant to do is make white noise. Some people like them when they sleep—they mask sounds. Probably good for masking conversations in ... well, in places like the counseling office."
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She rolls her eyes and laughs. "Of course he did. His ego knows no bounds. On the other hand, his world is genuinely fascinating. Like fairy tales intruding on the novels of Jane Austen. And not the cute fairy tales either—the old ones full of blood and nasty bargains."
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"Even odds whether it'd bore him to sleep, or whether you'd find him pounding on your door to ask you about the details," she points out.
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"As much as he drove me spare at first—and still does—I find I like him," she says. "It was something like that with O'Brien, though it took a hell of a lot longer to get there. At least I don't have to worry about Strange trying to murder me."
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"There's restrictions in place. But around here ... well. Anything can happen."
She sets down her coffee cup and leans back with a sigh.
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