Sorey was settling in to Lastonbell well, he thought. He had been spending the last two weeks admiring local historical sites, checking out museums and art galleries, and sampling local cuisine, and was getting to know his coworkers a little bit better both in the office and out. He missed his teammates from Ladylake, but Sorey was the friendly sort, and knew that it was only a matter of time before he was just as close with his new team as he was with his old.

That being said, there was a certain teammate he'd love to get closer to sooner rather than later. But the problem was, Sorey supposed, that he'd gotten close to him a bit too Sooner, making the Later a lot more complicated. Sorey snuck a sneaky peek at Mikleo, who was seated next to him, and tried to catch his eye. Mikleo continued to stare straight ahead at the whiteboard at the head of the room, though Sorey saw him jump a bit when Sorey poked him in the side. Small victories. Mikleo glowered at him, and smacked him away; Sorey grinned and gleefully escalated the tickle duel. Flirting with coworkers might be an awful idea, but it had its perks when it came to spicing up boring meetings.

"Excuse me! Detective Sorey! Detective Mikleo!"

Sorey winced and ceased all tickle activity, looking up a bit sheepishly at the source of the admonishment. Maybe he shouldn't have been screwing around in a department meeting when he was still a fresh face in the building. Detective Eleanor had raised herself to her unimpressive stature, and was fully fluffed up and ready to unleash a lecture.

"While it is wonderful to see that you are already bonding with your new partner-"

Another one of his coworkers, Detective Zaveid, burst into giggles at the phrasing. Sorey didn't know how Zaveid found out about his and Mikleo's...pre-existing bonding encounter(s), but he did seem to have ears and eyes everywhere in the city. Or maybe Sorey had had a small slip of the tongue when Zaveid took him out for drinks. Or maybe Zaveid was crawling around in the office air ducts to spy on him and Mikleo while they worked. The latter scenario would be entirely unsurprising. Sorey had very quickly found out that, much like Sorey's motorcycle needed fuel, or a flower needed sun, Zaveid needed to consume a constant stream of gossip or he would instantly fall completely dead to the pavement. Eleanor frowned at him and fluffed herself up further to increase her lecturing power level.

"-and while it is also wonderful to see senior members of the department taking an interest in helping you acclimate-"

"Who's a senior?" Zaveid said, with hurt in his voice. "Eleanor, are you telling me that I'm not cut out for this job anymore?"

Eleanor looked like a deer in headlights; her cheeks red as her hair. To not confront misbehavior in an individual who should be a paragon of morals and virtue was intolerable; to contradict one's professional senior was likewise intolerable. Eleanor was conflicted between these impossible extremes, and seemed ready to burst from strain.

"Detectives! Your captain has something to say."

They all looked warily at the front of the room, where Captain Sergei Strelka stood: back straight, shoulders squared, and patiently waiting for his team to redirect their attention to him. Captain Strelka was something of a legend on the force – Sorey had heard about him even before he was assigned to Lastonbell. He was hyper-competent, and had spearheaded the initiative to clean up Lastonbell's organized crime and drug trafficking activity. He was professional, an excellent leader, and a great public face for the department. His position was well-earned.

Sergei looked to the hand-puppet of himself that he wore on his right hand, and made it cross its arms firmly.

"I'm Cap'n Strelka, and I'm here to lead everyone in a fun-filled team-building activity at the behest of HR!"

Sorey had wondered why they'd been called into this meeting in the middle of the afternoon. He didn't wonder so much about the puppet. Not anymore, anyway. Sorey briefly wondered what it was about the position of captain that seemed to make people…like this. Sorey thought back to some of his more disturbing encounters in Ladylake. He'd watched Captain Lailah confiscate the shed skin of a Medusa-class hellion (a Class V biohazard), determined to purify it enough to mount it on her wall, all because it had dried and coiled into a curl that had captured her heart. After three days the entire station needed to be evacuated and a team in full protective gear needed to be sent in to clean up the miasmatic haze. Lailah lost her trophy to the incident, and sank into an abiding despair that lasted months.

And now here in Lastonbell he was regularly attending lectures on workplace safety and cultural sensitivity hosted by a hand-puppet.

(Early on, Captain Sergei had called Sorey into his office, and quietly asked him about how he'd been adjusting. He encouraged Sorey that he could always talk to him and the Cap'n about his feelings. Sorey thanked them both for the opportunity. Later, as he carefully turned the encounter over in his mind to come to terms with his new reality, he'd asked Mikleo why Captain Sergei seemed so familiar.

"His twin brother is the head bartender at Katz Pajamas. You probably saw me talking to him while you were there."

"…is he…does he do the hand-puppets too?"

"No, thank god."

"I bet that's kind of weird, though? You're in there cruising for hookups, and you're getting poured drinks by someone who looks like your boss."

"I've done body-shots off Boris' nipples while he was dressed like a slutty cat at the bar's Halloween party a couple years ago. We're way beyond weird.")

The team looked resigned to their fate. Zaveid forced a smile.

"Team-building! Great, let's all meet up at the nearest bar and really get our team on-"

"It's three in the afternoon!" Eleanor scolded him.

"I know a place that does all day mimosas," Zaveid explained. "I bet if you wanted to make a lunch version you could find a half-empty plastic gallon jug of orange juice and fill the rest with vodka-"

"That's just a screwdriver for people who've given up on life," Mikleo shot back.

"Team! We can go out for drinks later," Sergei assured. "But Miss Moo Cow is only booked with us for an hour before she has to go back to the park petting zoo."

The door to the meeting room opened, and a full-size dairy cow led by a person in a cow suit entered. Mikleo sprang out of his seat and inched over to the windows, all the color draining from his face. As he slunk away, Sorey stood up from his own seat and carefully trailed after him with no little concern.

"No. Not after last time," Mikleo said firmly. "No, no, no."

"Detective, I assure you that Miss Moo Cow has gone through the required sensitivity training to prevent a repeat of last year's events," Sergei said reassuringly. He gestured at Mikleo with his Cap'n-bedecked hand. "Would you like to talk with Cap'n about your feelings before we start the process of churning some delicious homemade butter?"

Mikleo was clearly not convinced, and was in the process of climbing out the window and onto the fire escape. Despite his better judgement – though homemade butter did sound nice – Sorey put on his negotiations hat and tried to talk Mikleo down.

"Mikleo, why don't I do the honors with Miss Moo Cow for you, and then we can both get churning -"

Mikleo was out and away, his footsteps clanging on the metal fire escape stairs as he headed towards the roof. Giving a sheepish smile to his teammates and a respectful nod to Miss Moo Cow and her associate, Sorey climbed out the window to follow him. As he pursued Mikleo to the rooftop, he heard the Cap'n asking who'd like to go first; and Eleanor's small, despairing affirmation.

Sorey found Mikleo seated on one of the industrial fan boxes on the rooftop; smoking a cigarette to calm his nerves down from whatever cow-based horrors had rattled them. Sorey had seen him smoke before – he thankfully wasn't a pack-a-day addict (Sorey surely would have tasted it on his tongue during their long weekend together), but he still lit up more often than Sorey liked while on the job. Sorey knew the stresses of this kind of work, and maybe smoking didn't have as bad an effect on seraphim, and Mikleo of course never did it where anyone else had to breathe it in. But when it came to Mikleo's health, Sorey couldn't…

…what he really couldn't do was anything about it, at all. Mikleo wasn't his boyfriend. They weren't in a relationship. They'd barely even established a professional connection. He was a guy he'd hooked up with over one wonderful, unforgettable weekend; he was a guy he was hopelessly hung up on. Sorey knew from the start that he was terrible at keeping things casual, at keeping feelings out of bed. And yet he dove in head-first regardless. This is what he got for ignoring his own good advice. Sorey shoved his hands into his pockets and flopped down next to Mikleo on his perch.

"So what's your beef with Miss Moo Cow?" Sorey asked jovially.

Mikleo gave him a flat look. Back in Ladylake, that kind of pun would have gotten Sorey a promotion from Captain Lailah. The times, they were a-changin'.

"I know you're not lactose intolerant, considering how many ice cream bars you can pack away."

"I prefer to not remember the incident," Mikleo said tersely. He took another drag of his cigarette, and exhaled a long, slow breath. "Suffice to say that I don't have faith I wouldn't see a repeat of it."

"Well, whatever horrors you think she's capable of, you've abandoned Eleanor and Zaveid to suffer them alone." Sorey tsked his tongue teasingly. "Hope that's not me someday."

"If and when that cow ever goes hellion? It just might be," Mikleo retorted. He stubbed out his cigarette. "That being said, rest assured that I have your back in other circumstances."

Sorey grinned wide. "Is that a date?"

Mikleo snorted, but Sorey could see a smile on his lips regardless. "You wish."

Text messages (4), Mileena Weiss

Hi Sorey! How've you been?

We've missed you here in Ladylake! (heart emoji) Ix has wanted to text you since the day you left to see how you're doing, but, well, you know him. He thinks it would just be "bothering" you. (eyeroll emoji)

Captain Lailah is as elegant and graceful as ever, but I can tell she misses having you around. I bet she'd love a text or email from you sometime. If you make a beautiful lady like her cry, I'll break into your apartment at night and break the bindings on ALL your books! (knife emoji, knife emoji)

The precinct's been pretty quiet lately, so maybe we can both take some time to visit you in Lastonbell. Ix has been daydreaming of going to all those museums and galleries you told him about before you left; if I don't get him there soon, he's liable to wilt away from nerd starvation. (skull emoji) Help him! Love you lots!

Sorey read through the texts with a small, sad smile on his face. Mileena and Ix were the resident rookies on Ladylake's squad, and ever since they'd joined the team, Sorey had felt a certain kind of responsibility for them. Especially Ix, who – though showing deductive skills and proficiency with purification that rivalled many of the more seasoned squad members – was a complete and utter nervous wreck even in the best of times. Crippling indecision and heartbreakingly low self-esteem were not traits that meshed well with a career in criminal justice, no matter what skills were there to make up for it. On his especially bad days, Sorey would load him up on the back of his motorcycle and drive them both over to his favorite café and bookstore to chat about history until Ix's tension passed.

When Sorey got the notification that he was being transferred to Lastonbell, he couldn't help but be concerned at what would become of the rookie when he wasn't around…he had Mileena, of course, but there were just some things that you couldn't talk about freely with someone you had feelings for.

Sorey knew that pain. He dropped his phone to his chest and let out a sigh.

You:

Hey guys! That sounds great, but I'm not sure if you really want to see my apartment right now…

Mileena Weiss:

Have you seriously not unpacked yet? It's been two weeks! What will you do if you want to bring a special someone home with you, make them sleep in a box like a cat?

You:

Well, if it came to that…

Mileena Weiss:

I swear I don't understand men honestly

I'm gonna tattle on you to Captain Lailah

You:

Nooo. Nooooooooooooo

I'll unpack soon. Promise (halo emoji) And then the two of you can come tour the city with me!

Mileena Weiss:

I'll hold you to that! (heart emoji)

The twinge of homesickness in his chest eased, if only a little. Sorey paused for a long moment, gazing at the gathering clouds outside the window, at the twinkling city lights in the late night air. He tapped over to his contacts and brought up Mikleo's entry, and stared at the picture Mikleo had sent him to associate with it – before they'd found out they were coworkers, of course. Sorey was sure that Mikleo wouldn't have ever sent him a photo like this otherwise.

His naked neck, marked with Sorey's hickies, his shirt unbuttoned to show the lines of his chest, his unbound hair falling in waves down his shoulders, and just a hint of his full, soft lips. Sorey probably shouldn't still have it associated with Mikleo's contact, but he couldn't quite bring himself to disassociate the Mikleo he'd fallen into bed with, with the Mikleo he was now working alongside every day in the office. Doing that felt like giving up, and reasonably, that was exactly what he should be doing – Mikleo had rebuffed all of his advances once they'd started working together, so he clearly wasn't interested in dating a coworker. He'd have to ask Mikleo for another photo sometime. Maybe now?

It was perilously late. It is widely known that at a certain time of night, the urge to send maudlin/horny/needy texts to your crushes becomes an irresistible self-destructive directive. Sorey was caught up in this compulsion, and before he even realized what he was doing, he'd already texted Mikleo.

You:

Hey. You still need a picture of me for your phone?

Sorey then pulled his phone back to take a selfie; turtling his neck in an attempt to give himself as many chins as possible in the shot. He sent it over to Mikleo, and as five whole seconds ticked by without a reply, Sorey fought the urge to go curl up in the bathtub in a shame ball. Luckily or unluckily for Sorey, he didn't have to wait more than another torturous minute or so for a response.

Mikleo:

That wasn't the kind of photo I was expecting when I saw your name, but if you insist. Have you been drinking?

Sorey hadn't been. He didn't need to be drunk to make poor decisions in love.

You:

drinking! The very idea

What kind of man do you take me for

Mikleo:

The drunk kind. Go dunk your head so you're lucid for work tomorrow

You:

Is this the kind of thanks I get for sharing my chins with you (crying face emoji)

Sorey didn't get a response for a minute or two, and briefly thought that Mikleo had abandoned him for the night to recover from his not-impairment. However, Sorey's phone buzzed again, and Sorey's heart skipped when he saw that it was a photo message. Swallowing hard, Sorey opened the notification.

He knew that Mikleo wore reading glasses – Sorey saw him wearing them at work, and he looked good enough in them there, but this. This was simply unfair. Mikleo had sent him a picture of himself in half-profile, leaning his chin on his hand, and giving the camera a half-lidded look over the tops of his spectacles. His hair fell over one shoulder in a loose braid that just begged to be loosened further by Sorey's fingers. He looked like he had been reading in bed when Sorey texted, and apparently slept without a shirt on. (Well, he'd slept without a shirt on at Sorey's place. But he didn't have pants on then either. Asking if the latter still held true seemed to be an inappropriate question to ask.) The dim lighting of Mikleo's room cast shadows on his features; perfectly outlining the beautiful lines of his jaw and cheekbones, and the tiny curl of those lips as they smirked at Sorey through the screen. It was no less lewd than the picture he already had of Mikleo, and Sorey felt awash in an exquisite despair.

He was getting the distinct feeling that he'd find something to fixate on no matter what picture Mikleo sent him, no matter how innocuous. He wondered if he could maybe sneak one of Mikleo while he was eating. That might work to get something that wouldn't destroy him every time he looked at it.

You:

too few chins. a B+ at best. See me after class

Mikleo:

I'll dispute that grade with the dean's office tomorrow, I assure you.

Good night. I'm sure you know to drink water before going to bed

You:

Of course. Partners always looking out for each other

Good night

So now Sorey had two lewd pictures, a renewed ache in his chest, and one very empty bed.

Sorey covered his face in his hand and sighed. This city was feeling lonelier than ever.