The streets were dark and slick, almost hazy from the rain that had stopped just minutes before. Goren had heard the rough weather from inside of 1PP earlier, and as his partner pressed back on the accelerator after the first redlight he was glad that it was no longer pouring. He was also secretly glad he didn't have to drive through the wet New York streets with the possibility of it starting back up again.
When they hit suburbia, Eames would have to watch out for pot holes.
Goren wondered if he would have to watch out for Eames. Deakins had heard about and warned them of the fact that the widow at the scene was very upset, verging on hysterical. A widow. Her husband, though not a cop, had been shot. There had been a flicker, somewhat of a microexpression on her face when he'd told them. Deakins hadn't noticed, but Goren had. As always.
Maybe tonight just wasn't a good night for this. She was good at hiding it, but she thought about Joe more often than she wanted to. Lost opportunities, haunting memories, the fact that she could never find someone to fill the void left...
She'd let her guard down a little more in the car, and her mood was more evident. Goren wondered if he could change her sullen expression. Even though he was such a skilled manipulator, his partner presented quite a challenge.
Goren looked down and across at Eames. She shot him a glare.
"What?"
He shrugged and looked away. She stared at him for a second, then let it go. As soon as her eyes were back on the road, he stared down again, but this time at the radio.
Just glancing down at it out of the corner of his eye, he pushed the volume button, and proceeded to start playing with the dial.
"The hell're you doin', Bobby?"
"You don't like music?"
"I-"
He found a classic rock station and turned it up.
"The hell is this crap?"
"This is... this is good stuff!"
She could barely hear him, and was having trouble concentrating on the road.
"It's T. Rex. I haven't heard this in years!" He gave her a toothy smile. She gave him a look of confusion.
"I SAID IT'S T. REX, 20TH CENTURY BOY. I USED TO-"
"I DON'T CARE"
"WHAT?"
"I DON'T LIKE I-"
He turned the station.
She sighed. He kept his smile. "What do you like, Eames?" She shot him a look that seemed to communicate that the previous song wasn't exactly among her favorites.
He didn't meet her eyes. In fact, he ignored her completely, being that he was busy going through stations again.
Still smiling, of course. "Come on! That was classic rock!"
"How the hell is that a classic anything?"
He found a Musica Latina station and yet again blasted the music.
"Dammit, Bobby!"
When they reached another light she reached over to turn it down, but his hand batted hers away.
"I'm not gonna let you get away with calling one of my favorite songs as a kid cr- Hey!" She'd forcibly elbowed his arm out of the way and turned the sound off with a click. He slowly reached back over and she slapped his hand.
She laughed while in the middle of a right-hand turn. "You're a grown man, Bobby, what's gotten into y-"
This time it was Hank Williams. Goren made a face and reached to turn the dial again, but Eames stopped him. He stared down at her hand around his wrist, a comical mix of pouting and disgust on his face.
"My dad used to play this stuff all the time."
She was smiling.
"'Jambalaya'?"
Eames finally let go of his hand. He withdrew it, rubbing his wrist in mock pain. Still smiling, Eames turned the radio down to a reasonable level.
"Thanks, Bobby."
Goren didn't reply, but turned his head to watch her face, to see if there was a change in expression.
"Last night was our anniversary, and..."
He blinked. He hadn't known.
Eames was content to let her voice trail off. Eames couldn't care less about politeness, and Bobby wasn't really one to say "you're welcome." Neither of them noticed that it had started to rain again (well, Goren had, but he wasn't paying much attention at the moment).
Eames was never quite sure how Goren had somehow stomached golden oldies for the rest of the drive.