Remembrance.
Three hours ago she'd arrived home to the sound of notes being ripped from the piano in her foyer. It had been surprising, to say the least, as she'd gotten to her apartment long before she was even supposed to leave work.
She made her way, silently, to the origin of the mournful melody, she leaned against the doorframe calmly observing her guest.
Sitting before the black baby-grand, fingers slow-dancing over the keys, an ear pressed to its surface, was Cindy Thomas; and Denise could safely bet her right arm, she had her eyes closed, even as she was, turned to the other side of the room.
Denise, advanced slowly and sat in the settee, never taking her eyes off of the last person she would have expected to set foot on her flat only six months back. But there was something odd about her today, a foreign tenseness, unusual.
"Not that I mind your company, but I'm inclined to inquire about the mood of our impromptu evening." Demise pronounced gently as to not startle the redhead.
Cindy just turned her head around, not taking it from its perch, and gave her a barely-there smile.
"Sorry to have just barged in," she apologized softly, the music not stopping.
"Nonsense, I gave you a key," she kicked off her pumps and tucked her legs under her, leaning on the armrest. "so that definition hardly applies." She let her eyes study the woman before her and had little problem recognizing the emotions darkening the usually cheery brown eyes. "So, will you tell me what's changed since I last saw you gallivanting around the homicide bullpen less than six hours ago or are you going to keep avoiding the subject?" despite her words, her voice was gentle and her eyes more inviting then most gave her credit for.
Cindy's smile grew.
"I was busy, now I'm not." Was all she gave for explanation.
"Very illustrative." She stood back up and padded to the kitchen and set a kettle with water to boil, took out two mugs and a can of green tea. She'd found the younger woman favored it when feeling anything but he best. "Care to flesh it out?"
"It's my dad's death anniversary." the music had stopped and now the redhead was leaning on the entrance to the kitchen and observed her, much like she'd done earlier. "He loved to hear me play as much as I loved watching football with him." She further explained.
"Well, the piano is yours and, as long as it resides here, so is my home." Denise replied taking it as explanation enough.
Cindy stalled as if wanting to add something but turned around and returned to the piano when the kettle whistled.
Denise noticed the hesitation but said nothing, deciding any and all difficult conversations were easier over a good cup of tea.
Several minutes later saw her coming out of the kitchen carrying two mugs, one she left on the coffee table by the loveseat, and the second was carefully left on a coaster above the piano.
The night's requiem motive was changed in favor of soft blues.
Denise observed her, not entirely sure if she should but feeling the need to ask, she shifted into a comfortable position and went for it. "what about the Girl's Posse?" several weeks of discussion settled that: no, it's not a club and I've got to call it something, I'm not going to go around referring to them as Boxer, Bernhard and Washburn every time I refer to the whole of them and the girls sounds correct only coming from you.
"Swamped in paperwork; when you think about it, my job does have the most perks," she smiled lightly, "case over, article on case done, and I can go happily home, unless I'm behind in one of my assignments which just doesn't happen, no report to fill, no forms by triplicate, and if the case is big enough some follow up pieces written on information I already have especially for it." She shrugged.
After that, a light dinner and some more conversation over the soft notes Cindy regaled her with; Denise was now sitting on the piano bench observing the short redhead sleeping in her all-too-comfortable, she did admit it, sofa.
Considering she had fallen asleep in the first place, it would have been cruel to wake her to relocate, so she stood, when to a closed for a warm blanket and a pillow, and carefully tucked the reporter in.
"Good night," she whispered and kissed her lightly on the cheek, straightening up, she went to get ready to sleep, the damned woman was an early riser, morning person or not.