"You sure you don't want some of this?" Bryan held up his half-unwrapped chocolate bar. He was standing in the aisle of an Orbital plane as it crossed the country to take him and his partner Finola to another case.
"I'm good, thanks," Finola mumbled from her seat, not looking up as she scrolled through a report on her tablet.
Shrugging, the CIA agent went back to preparing his snack. He took a graham cracker, a square of chocolate, and a marshmallow, positioning them carefully inside the expensive piece of scientific equipment that NASA had designed.
Within a minute, his s'more was ready and he lifted the "oven" door, letting the scent of the toasted marshmallow and melted chocolate waft down the plane's aisle to his partner.
Finola looked up from her work. "What is that?"
Bryan was carefully removing the s'more with a towel, careful not to get too much of the gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate on it. "This is...bliss," he replied. "You know how I said Peeps were crack-like? Well, s'mores are crack."
She shook her head, watching with amusement as he took a bite of his treat. His eyes rolled upward in pleasure, and she had to laugh. "Are they really that good?" she asked.
He waved the half-eaten s'more in front of her like it was bait. "Huh? Come on, you know you want some."
Still smiling, she put down her tablet and accepted the sugar-laden graham cracker from her partner.
Taking a small bite, she chewed thoughtfully, experiencing the combination of textures and flavors. It was crunchy and soft; sweet, warm chocolate and toasted marshmallow.
"This is really good," she admitted.
Bryan clapped his hands in satisfaction. "Told you!" he crowed. "I'm going to make some more, hence the name."
As he piled more graham crackers with chocolate and marshmallows, Bryan watched Finola finish his s'more out of the corner of his eye. He felt victorious, not just because he had won her over to liking s'mores, but because she had finally taken him up on an offer to share his food. It bugged him more than he cared to admit, but he wanted Finola to take some of what he had. They were partners. He would give her equal shares in everything he had, which wasn't much, but—damn, he hadn't felt like this since Asalah, since touching Mariel's hand and mentally experiencing the Debris.
Finola Jones had gotten under his skin. And if he one day bared his soul to her, well, deep down, he knew he wouldn't mind that either. It was to Finola, and her alone, who he had told the conclusion of his story with Asalah, and why he carried her photo with him. They had saved each other's lives since working Debris cases together. As far as he was concerned, she laid claim to part of his soul already.