She leans over the desk to jot notes and Will watches her, follows the profile of her nose down to her mouth and the slight purse of her lips, then to the dark hair (tighter curls, today) spilling past her shoulder. There's something about her weariness that makes her at once more haggard and more lovely. The drawn line of her mouth means vulnerability, and a somber quietude in her usually steely gaze.
"Alright," she breathes, the smallest of smiles tugging at her mouth as she turns to face him. "Anything else?"
Will's got his mouth slightly open then, like he wants to say something - but as usual, he's hesitating. Magnus makes everything in the room slow down, including Will Zimmerman. She raises a brow to glance at him in bemusement, but before she can dismiss him, he submits to this crazy desire to kiss her.
He's kissing Helen Magnus, with one hand cupping her jaw and a thumb tracing her cheekbone, and by the time his mouth's on hers it's far too late to turn back. Surprise makes her hesitate for a moment before pulling away, one hand pressed gently against his chest. "Will, this isn't - " she tries, but he shakes his head and kisses her again, moving toward her, hips gently bumping hers, then pinning her to the desk.
This isn't right; this is so, so far from right, and she can only see Will - maybe even herself - being hurt by this, but damn it all it's been a long time since she was kissed like this, and Helen is greedy - so very, very greedy. She inhales sharply, and her body moves just a little against his. She complains wordlessly into his mouth while her fingers search out the beltloops of his worn jeans, drawing him the fraction of an inch closer that means he's welcome, he's fine; that in this moment, they belong to each other.
When they're finished, his head falls to her shoulder, and he can't decide whether he should keep standing there with his hands on her thighs, or drag her into an embrace. Helen has another path in mind: pushes her fingers through his hair, cups his head gently in one hand as she tilts her own head down to lean against his for a moment, then mumbles a quiet: "You should go."
It's not what he wants to hear, but this time he listens to her - to the bittersweet tone and to the quiet hitch in her voice. He puts his clothing back in order, but turns to glance back at her doing the same after a few steps.
"Magnus?"
"Yes, Will?" She's straightening her skirt, brows raised for a better view of him even with her head tilted down.
He's quiet for a long moment, watching her. "Nothing."