Just another one...
The rich smell teases his nostrils as he bites through the crumbling crust into gooey moistness, the dark bitter edge of the chocolate and crunch of nuts a perfect contrast to the mouth melting sweetness.
Home cooked delights were rare in the Squad Room; most of the staff had little time for baking, and politicians, corporations and the famous rarely expressed their gratitude that way. But Petronelli's new wife was an accomplished cook and eager to curry favour with his colleagues, so the tin with its cutesy motifs of hearts and flowers was a welcome sight on the table next to the coffee machine.
Especially now.
Called into action by the cancer scare, Angie and the girls had embarked on a campaign to minimise further risks. He was denied his after- dinner cigar and dragged out on long walks and cycle rides on his day off. Fair enough, he knew the dangers of smoking and time spent with the women in his life was never wasted. But worst was the food; a near vegetarian menu of organic health-food with not a cookie or cake in sight.
Except in the Squad Room.
His hand sneaks into the tin and surreptitiously takes another brownie, the forbidden nature increasing the temptation. Wiping his mouth free of any crumbs, he heads back into the main space to catch up with Eames and Goren; the real reason he had left his office before the sight of the tin had distracted him.
Eames gave him the facts, Goren his interpretation and he was pleased to see them working well together; the uncomfortable sensation in his stomach was due to sugar not tension.
"The Councilman will be delighted it's not some maniac terrorising his slum." He leans back on the desk trying to ease the tightness of his waistband and continues.
"You can kick it over to the 1-5..."
"Why? We got time for this." Eames' quick interjection and the glance she throws at Goren tell him a lot about their commitment and the current state of their partnership.
"The Chief of Detectives wants a couple of bodies for the Mayor's drug task force..." The look on their faces confirms his predictions. "OK, I should know better. But it's a good opportunity..." He points at Eames, knowing she is the most ambitious of the pair. "Suit yourself!" She gestures, hands raised as if the very prospect is appalling and he gratefully heads back to his office and the opportunity to loosen his belt.
Cranberry and white chocolate chip cookies.
He is still trying to clear the stickiness from his teeth as he is followed back to his office; Eames eager to share their latest findings, Goren pushing in front impatient to expound on serial killers versus spree killers. The phone call interrupts them and brings news of another body. He shares their distress and envies them being able rush off into action while he is stuck in the office. At least, there are cookies...
Passing by their desks later (after another trip supposedly for coffee- he wonders if anyone has noticed the machine in his office still works) he watches with pleasure as Goren draws the facts presented by Eames together into a web of court cases and insurances claims. This was the potential he had seen and it is gratifying to see it in action. But perhaps not as satisfying as sugar and butter and...
Banana bread.
He tries to convince himself that the fruit and nuts wrapped in crumbly moistness constitute healthy food as he listens to the technician play the recorded telephone message. He is becoming a little perturbed by his weakness and his pants are becoming tighter. His disgust at his self indulgence makes his tone a little more strident as he exhorts:
"Let's not let this one get away!"
Mini red velvet cupcakes.
Pure sweet sensation, each a perfect mouthful. And one is not enough.
He sits on his desk, watching Carver pace and pick holes in the case and feels the craving for sugar. Feels too the need to defend the hard work his detectives have put in, their partnership paying dividends. Even more so as he comprehends Goren's plan and Eames willingness to play along.
His thoughts turn to excesses and over indulgence as he watches the drama play out in the interrogation room. Talbott was all about lack of restraint; the coke, the women, the gambling. But there was another form of over indulgence on display here too. Goren, high on the thrill of pushing Talbott's buttons so effectively, pushing just a little bit more...
The mirror shatters, spraying the room with its shards and he sighs. He's going to have to talk to Goren about reining it in a little; otherwise the entire Department budget will be wasted on replacement one- way glass.
Yep, he'll talk to him.
After another cupcake...