"Can I get you more coffee?"

"No, thank you."

"You don't mind if I…?"

"Go ahead."

"Okie dokie. Thanks!"

"Mm." Pen gripped between her eyeteeth, Blaze shuffles through official documents and unofficial scribbled notes, grimly paying mind to the pile of folders still waiting for her near the edge of her heavy wooden desk.

Silver whistles merrily from the neighbouring kitchenette, but some strange, subdued remnant of sadness radiates off him.

She pauses at a photograph. Then takes in a deep, soothing breath through her nose.

His whistle momentarily loses its key. He's evidently distracted by trying to twist open the jar of coffee.

Spitting out the pen, she thinks deeply about the young man's smile. Gazing distantly into the photograph, she imagines his voice, then shakes her head. Pushes her chair back.

"C'mon," Silver mutters, abandoning his tune. "Open up, you…!"

She stands, the photograph kept close to her chest, and turns away from her desk, from the paperwork, to briskly cross the room in strong, masculine strides. She stops before the board mounted on the wall. Reaches for a pin, tied to the end of a strand of red string.

The hedgehog finally twists the cap off of the jar, feeling satisfied and reasserted within himself. He then sets down the cap and takes up a spoon in its place. "Maybe I've told you this before," he says, speaking loudly over the roar of the boiling kettle, "but you'd think they'd have a bigger office for us, considering the important work we do!"

"Hmm."

"And we're pretty understaffed, too. Meh, money is tight, I guess. But our little team is great!" He chuckles. "And…" He feels his blush creeping upon him, shyly smiling at the kettle. "This way, I get to work more closely with you. We all do, but…"

She doesn't reply, although she hears him, dimly.

He tries to calm his thrumming heart with a gentle pat on the chest.

Her eyes traverse the board, the faces in the photographs, the red strings connecting them to snippets of places, relevant news clippings and scribbled, torn notes. The newest photograph is getting slightly crumpled in the grip of her slender hand, the point of the pin between her fingertips unsteady, gleaming.

"Actually, scratch what I said earlier about us having a bigger office to share. It's great just sharing this space with you." He rubs the back of his head bashfully. "But if anybody deserves to have a bigger office in this place, I think that somebody should be you. You should totally have your own office, Detective. A big office with a nice view."

"And my own pretty masseuse at the ready to rub this tension from my shoulders," she replies under her breath, pressing the photograph flat against an open space. "Wouldn't that be nice?" Finally, she pins the string to the edge of the photograph of the young man's face, then steps back, feeling small and insignificant under the looming mosaic of faces, the growing web of red strings.

Silver returns shortly thereafter with a steamy mug in his hand. About to say something friendly and cheerful, he falters when he sees her standing before the evidence board, her slim, straight back toward him.

"All these people."

He swallows saliva and tentatively approaches her. "Detective?"

"Sometimes, I wonder why I do this job."

"O-oh, that's easy!" He nervously laughs. "So you can stop the bad guys, of course. You're a hero."

"It isn't that simple, at least, I don't think it is." She turns to face him. "Those 'bad guys' are people, too, with complicated motivations." Her expression is stern, but her eyes communicate much more tenderly. "Motives we might never know. It seems convenient to vilify them, to dismiss them, but is it so simple?"

He feels vulnerable under her gaze, insufficient.

"Maybe those 'bad guys' are just people, people who hurt other people. That's what makes this scenario so hard to understand." She realises her voice is rougher than usual. "But I hope those 'bad guys' can change for the better. I cling to this hope."

"It could be good, I mean, to have hope."

"Still, it's so hard, because it seems so senseless."

He sees her move, feels her brush past him, briskly making her way back to her desk.

She sits down, cradling her head in one hand, reaching for another file with the other.

"We will catch this killer, Detective," Silver murmurs to the board, before adding more strongly, "I believe."

"You believe?"

"I believe we will catch this killer. I believe justice, somehow, will prevail. And if we're not the ones to enact just a slice of justice, then somehow, justice will prevail in another way. That's what I believe, too."

Silver's yawn draws Blaze out of her stupor.

"Go home. Get some rest."

He immediately regrets having shown weakness. "But there's still paperwork…"

"I can manage." She's firm, yet gentle. "It's been a long day. A long number of days."

"You staying here, working on your own… That's hardly fair, though."

"I won't be in the office for much longer. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"But–"

"Catch a taxi, go home and rest. That's an order."

He doesn't argue further, rising to pack his things away in his neat little satchel. He glances her way, taking a moment to play with his loose, twisted tie.

She is poised over her work, biting that old pen again. Still, she manages to talk through it elegantly, coherently, saying, "I assume you have cab money."

"I do. But…"

"But?"

"Are you sure? I'm happy to stick by you and keep working."

"I told you before that I had given you an order. I'm sure."

He smiles a secret, sad smile at her and, with reluctance, turns to leave. "Goodnight, Detective."

"Goodnight, Silver." She waits to hear the door open and close, then waits some more. When his footsteps have receded downstairs, she deflates, losing much of her posture in the process. She collapses over her desk, a hand slapping down on the remaining paperwork to prevent its escape, and she bows her head into the nest of her folded arm. She closes her eyes and breathes.

The little clock on her desk ticks noisily.

"All those people." The words come out muffled. Try as she might to be blind, she sees their faces projected against her eyelids. She sees the irony, now, in warning Silver.

"Hi."

Blaze slides onto the barstool, her tail curling about herself. She attempts a quiet, modest smile at the bartender. "Hey."

"The usual?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"No problem, hon."

Her eyes trace the motions of a strong, voluptuous body as Rouge reaches for a glass at the back. "Your perfume."

The bat is listening, but gives little indication of paying even the slightest attention.

"It's different tonight."

An amused sound. "You noticed."

"I'm a detective." The cat tilts her head slightly. "And all these years later, you're a friend. Of course I noticed."

"I'm trying something new."

"I like it, but I like your old scent better."

"Only because it's familiar to you and you're evidently a lady who likes routine."

"I can be adventurous."

Rouge laughs quietly, deeply, from the belly outward, whilst filling the tall glass with amber from the tap.

"What's so funny?"

"You are, dear."

Blaze accepts the full glass that's eventually pushed her way.

The bat reaches for her cloth and begins polishing another glass.

"How stereotypical."

"That, and I like it when stuff gleams." Her aquamarine eyes are alert under dark lashes. "How are you?"

"Managing." The cat sighs. "How do I look?"

"Tired. Worn. Still cute."

"And you look indestructible, unfazed, gorgeous."

"I try."

"But how are you?"

Hesitation. "Not at my best. You've probably noticed these last few visits that my bar seems quieter than usual. It keeps getting a little quieter each night."

"Business has been hurt. It's still hurting."

"Yeah."

"The prejudice of some people." Warm eyes are sympathetic. "Has anyone been harassing you?"

"No. I've always been controversial in this city, hon. Mostly, people just avoid me, now. Even more than before."

Blaze lowers her head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"We've been trying to keep the investigation quiet."

"Amy Rose doesn't really 'do' quiet, though, does she?"

An aggravated sound. A growl, almost.

"Easy, kitten. She's young. Enthusiastic. I doubt she means any harm. She probably thinks she's a hero for keeping the public informed. She could be. To them, at least."

"Maybe. But she's sensational. Absurdly popular."

A womanly shrug, shoulders bare. "Seems she's just giving the people what they want. I can understand that. A story, something juicy and bitter to sink their anxious teeth into. I often sell something juicy and bitter to drown their sorrows in. It's just business."

"I guess so. So it's especially strange that she wasn't at the last crime scene."

"Oh?"

"At least, I didn't see her."

"Do you think she's avoiding you?"

"No. She's rather fearless. I'm no threat to her."

Rouge shrugs again. "Maybe her clairvoyance only works sometimes, then."

The cat groans.

The bat giggles. "What?"

"Do you really believe she's clairvoyant?"

"I dunno. She generally seems to appear at the right places and at the right times for her stories, though. It's uncanny. And she said as much in her article."

"I think she knows someone on the inside. Someone who is feeding her information. Maybe a common uniform. Maybe one of my guys."

"How intriguing."

"I've tried looking into it. Nobody's talking."

"Whoever it is, seems they're more loyal to Amy than they are to you, hon."

"Yes. The thought saddens me, somewhat."

"Then let's change the topic to something happier, hmm?"

"Right." The slightest of grins. "How are things with your platonic housemate?"

The mask momentarily disappears, replaced by a look of profound affection. "Shadow is Shadow. A lot like how you are you. He's been very supportive in his own funny way."

"He does seem to take care of you."

"I'm not sure what I'd do without him. Anyway." Rouge smirks. It used to be unsettling, but now the expression is vaguely comforting. "How's the newest addition to your unit? What's-his-name?"

"Silver." Blaze flexes her jaw. "He's doing fine."

"And?"

"He could be a great detective, given time."

"But right now, he's young. Inexperienced. And that bothers you."

"I hope he doesn't get crushed under the weight of our work."

"You haven't considered something… more?"

"More?"

"You've been tending this bar since the night I first met you."

"So?"

"Don't you want change? Something else?"

"Not really. Not right now, at least."

Blaze wants to say something, but refrains.

"Listen, darling."

She looks up.

Rouge leans over, resting heavily on her elbows, unmindful of her cleavage. "I'm fine, okay? The people are unhappy, sure, but I have every confidence in you. I believe you'll catch this guy."

The cat is reminded of Silver. It's surreal.

"And until then, I'm probably not about to retreat from the business I've poured my sweat and tears into just because of some social tension."

"If anyone threatens you, I want to know about it."

"Please, dear!" The bat smiles toothily."This is me you're talking to."

Bright eyes focus for a moment on those teeth. Sharp, curved, white fangs.

"I haven't forgotten my former kickboxing career. I can protect myself. Don't worry about me, m'kay?"

"But what about your business?"

"It's a little quiet, for now. Not about to close, though. I'm doing fine, see?"

"You won't consider at least leaving town for a while?"

"I'm no coward. Stop fussing over me. I'm keeping it together."

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can be. I can't see into the future, but I have tried to prepare myself for whatever might happen."

"I don't want this to hurt you."

"You've got enough on your plate. I appreciate your compassion, lovely, but leave me to my plate. Okay? I won't have you taking on my problems in addition to yours."

"But my work is causing you grief."

"No. The reactions of some people are causing me grief. Not you, not what you do."

Blaze sighs, defeated, but impressed. "Just stay safe, okay?"

Rouge's facial features soften. "Chivalry still lives in you." She reaches over to fondly cup a silky jaw. "How are you still single?"

"I've been told I'm married to my work."

"Maybe it's you who should consider a change."

"I don't want to quit."

"Then don't. But consider taking a break."

"Too much to do. Don't want this to defeat me."

"You sound like me, eh?"

"Maybe I'm as stubborn as you."

"Possibly, yes."