A very recognisable trench was hanging on the coat rack, faintly and familiarly scented. She ran her hand down the length of the heavy fabric, sturdy and reliable, just like the wearer. It occurred to her that she didn't know what it actually felt like. She'd never touched anything of Detective Inspector Robinson's without her gloves, much to her dismay. Slowly peeling off her fine cream coloured gloves, she ran just a finger down and into the pocket. The material was rough, like the skin on the Inspector's hands. She was mildly interested to know if they were as rough as they looked. She made a mental note to find out. Continuing the exploration, she played around with the heavy folds and noticed something she hadn't realised before. His coat lining. It was red. Burgundy to be precise. She supposed it was too much to ask for it to be a bold scarlet. Much more her style, though not his, she conceded. The muted hue suited him, his stoic nature certainly but she amused herself by thinking it alluded to another more passionate side of Jack she hadn't seen before. Or so she hoped. She'd never known him to wear red. She liked the idea. She had half a mind to rumple him a bit and loosen that curl in his hair she knew he had.
The voices stopped, the door opened and the owner of the coat strode out into the hallway. He stopped short when seeing his friendly adversary standing demurely by the door. Only the swinging of his coat alerted him to the fact that she had been ferreting around the place.
'Hello Jack' she said brightly.
He scowled slightly and greeted her.
'Miss Fisher. Did you oversleep? You're not here before me as usual.'
'I can be patient. Just waiting my turn.' She slipped past him. 'Wouldn't want to get in your way.'
He frowned. She always got in his way no matter what. She'd been snooping again, a bad habit of hers. He noticed that her gloves were off. He wasn't sure what that meant.
'Have you been gathering information again Miss Fisher?' He asked not too kindly.
'Look a little deeper on your way out' she said cryptically.
'Come again?' He wrinkled his brow.
She swung round to face him on her way past. 'I don't remember obliging you the first time' she quipped, causing his face to flush considerably. Damn, he hated himself for his susceptibility and she knew it.
He turned away to grab his coat and avoid her laughing eyes. Shrugging it on, he thrust his hands in his pockets and walked out. He was halfway down the street when he registered something in his pocket. He pulled it out. It was a sweet. Butterscotch. His favourite. His suspicions were alerted to the one person who could have put it there but if Miss Fisher wanted to spoil him with sweets then he wasn't going to stop her. He smiled, unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth, enjoying a very rare sugar hit first thing in the morning. All was forgiven for the time being.