It had been a month and she'd settled in. More or less. Probably more, because Tony found himself noticing it. She'd formed fairly polite friendships with the people in her department, and managed them well. So far, no one had complained about her and the work she did was exemplary. She seemed to attack incoming threats with a kind of vivacity Tony hadn't really seen before, as though she couldn't help but defend her country to the best of her ability. She was quite an asset. Even George had commented.
So now, it was well after five. The night (ahem) shift had arrived and taken themselves to their more secluded stations, and he was the last of the day shift left. He and Michelle. He didn't know what she was doing, but she was pretty engrossed in it. Probably managerial stuff, things that were bumped to the end of the day if any hot intel came in, which it had, prompting her to run flat out from the moment she'd arrived. He watched her from his station, annoyingly situated in a way that made it only too easy to lift his gaze and look directly at her. She never looked at him. She only ever looked at her screen.
He was digging through some of his own managerial rubbish, things George had ungraciously thrown his way before he left, and he couldn't help but feel highly aware of the fact that it was just him and her…there together. Should he say something? Make some friendly comment? He didn't want her to get the wrong idea though. He didn't want her to think he would then be friendly all the time. Because he wouldn't be. He didn't want friends at work. He knew that.
Plus, there was something about her. It had been weighing on him, prodding at him since her first day. He hadn't been able to wipe his mind properly clean of her. Maybe it was the way she brushed him off just as adeptly as he did her? He wasn't quite used to that. Normally, people were quite perturbed by him, especially lately. They worried over his dislike of them, wondered why he wasn't friendly and asked themselves if they had done something wrong. He didn't like playing with people. He did it out of necessity, not for fun. He also knew what to expect from the receiver…and she hadn't given it to him.
It seemed, after their first quick exchange, that she almost couldn't see him. She took orders from him, and listened to him in meetings, and gave an affirmative or negative answer when he asked her questions, but other than that she gave him nothing. And he couldn't read her. It bothered him. Maybe she just didn't care. Maybe she was there to do her job, and making friends wasn't a part of the plan. Snappy bosses didn't faze her. Rude colleagues hardly registered on her radar. Maybe she cared as little for him and he did for her.
But…he wasn't entirely certain that was true anymore. Why else would she sit constantly in his mind? She did annoy him. He was well aware of that, but lots of people annoyed him and they didn't hover in his head the way she did. He narrowed his eyes as he glanced at her again.
She was wearing one of her usual black skirts, and some fitted beige shirt. It wasn't the most enthralling combination ever, he thought. Then he resisted the urge to smack his own head. It wasn't enthralling, but why should it be? Why? With increasing frequency over the last month Tony had found himself looking up at her, taking in her clothes and general appearance, and then giving himself a moment to properly consider just how unsexy it all was. But why? He didn't do it to any of the other women. Not even the meek, bespectacled redhead in IT who wore sneakers to work.
Just her. Then, it made sense. It was just because she was there. Because she sat directly across from him and he had no other choice than to appraise her several dozen times a day. That was all.
And that hair. He still couldn't get over it. He felt like leaving a voucher for a hair straightener on her desk for her to find one day. Maybe then she'd take the hint. It wasn't the eighties anymore, or the nineties, or whenever it was when hair that ridiculous had been acceptable. There was simply no reason for a woman to have hair like that anymore.
Suddenly, he heard her phone ring, and looked up to watch her hand part company with her keyboard to answer it.
'Dessler,' she murmured quietly, as though only just realising she wasn't alone in the bullpen. She said nothing for a moment before 'Danny, what do you mean? Well, I'm still at work, just finishing some things up. What? No, I'm not…oh….I am late. I didn't realise. I'm so sorry. Alright, alright, I'm leaving now. I'll be over soon, okay? Want me to bring anything? Okay, I will.'
Tony hurriedly looked back at his screen as she ended the call. He hadn't known she had a boyfriend. He probably would've if he'd ever talked to her beyond the curt orders he hurled her way, but he hadn't, so…
He wasn't sure why this revelation about her annoyed him, and he sat very still, trying to understand it. She wasn't his type. She wasn't his type in the slightest. She wasn't leggy, or busty, or any of the other things he enjoyed. And that hair…still, some man obviously liked it. Some man obviously liked all of her, enough to call her and find out why she was at work instead of at his place.
'Tony?'
He jumped slightly, his head jerking up. He hadn't noticed her get up from her chair, or come over to his station. Now she was standing on the other side of his desk, her handbag under her arm, watching him with a very peculiar expression…almost suspicious.
'Uh, yeah?' He fixed his eyes upon her, trying to look as though he'd been thinking about terrorists and bombs and anything other than her.
'Just leaving for the night,' she explained, suddenly looking a touch self-conscious. He blinked. Self-conscious? That couldn't be right. She never looked anything less than utterly unruffled.
'Uh, okay,' he said, neatening the contents of a folder in front of him. He watched her gaze slink down to his hands and their slightly uncontrolled movements for a moment. Did he just imagine the slight narrowing of her eyes, or was she actually clued in to the sudden unbecoming tension he felt at her closeness?
'Well, good night,' she eventually said to him.
'Yeah,' he said, as she turned away. 'Night.'
He really couldn't believe how much he enjoyed watching the slight sway of her hips as she walked away, nor could he fathom just how oddly bare the bullpen felt now that she'd left it.
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