Hetty was relaxing with a perfect cup of chamomile tea when Owen approached her. She raised an eyebrow but continued her drinking.
"That good for the nerves?" Owen asked, taking his usual seat and looked at her expectantly.
"Not as well as a good scotch but alas, drinking that before noon is frowned upon."
"It's the evening in England," Owen grunted in reply.
Hetty ignored his rather broad hint and made him his own cup of tea. Good thing she made it properly in a teapot so there was always a cup to share. Really, was there any other way to brew tea?
"It's also good for your digestion," she told him, thrusting the cup in his direction.
He eyed the cup suspiciously, "There's nothing wrong with my digestion."
"Nerves are always bad for one's digestion," she waved him off.
He just raised an eyebrow at her. He hadn't said anything about nerves. She smiled at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Asking for a scotch before noon is a new one for even you, Owen."
"Hard day," he gave the excuse.
She cocked her head. Wasn't every day a hard day? Especially when you had to deal with agency politics like Owen did. Which, if she remembered correctly (and of course she did), he wasn't doing today.
"I thought that you were checking on Miss Blye this morning?"
Pointedly avoiding her answer, he took a long sip of his tea. It went down too fast and he choked briefly, eyes bulging amusingly. He glared his betrayal at the cup, knowing better than to glare at her.
"Owen?" she asked again, a note of warning in her voice.
"I saw her this morning," he confirmed, setting the cup down and pushing it away from him.
Hetty sighed inwardly. That was a waste of perfectly good tea, she doubted he was going to drink anymore. Shame.
"Oh? How was she?"
Owen gave her a suspicious look and she just looked innocently at him. Hetty knew what Owen was thinking, that she already knew the outcome of his visit. Which she didn't but it wouldn't harm anyone if he thought so. It wasn't like she had cameras hiding in her agent's room. That would be an invasion of privacy. And against the law.
As if he knew what she was thinking, Owen snorted before replying, "Frustrated."
"Ah."
Owen leaned back and sighed.
"She's expecting too much. Being too hard on herself," he said, sounding extremely frustrated himself.
Quite a normal response after dealing with one Kensi Blye these days. The girl just wasn't happy with her current capabilities and was trying to improve, which in any other case would be admirable but when 'improving' involved potentially damaging yourself further it just wasn't good.
"I'll have a word with her," Hetty assured him.
Or several. Heated ones, if necessary, which it probably would be.
Owen raised an eyebrow at her.
"Only a word?" he asked knowingly. "Didn't the doctors say not to get her worked up?"
"Don't tell me that you are concerned about her, Owen," Hetty teased.
He scoffed in reply but his slightly worried expression didn't change. Oh, he was definitely concerned. What a change this was to when he first arrived. It looks like Mr Callen wasn't the only one who had managed to learn what a team, nay a family, meant.
"She just can't seem to catch a break," Owen said quietly, a note of something in his tone.
Hetty hummed in agreement. It was true, although all the team had had bad luck in recent years (with often traumatising results) Miss Blye seemed to be the only one who kept on managing to get herself nearly killed each time.
Silence stretched between the two old friends, each of them lost in thoughts of their youngest agent.
"She'll be okay, Owen," Hetty said confidently.
Owen didn't look too sure of that. She almost tutted, didn't he know to trust her judgement on matters like this? She knew her people and, quite frankly, so should he. He'll see, she didn't say those sorts of things lightly.
Though he still didn't look too convinced. What else could she do? She finished up her cup of tea, a pensive look on her face. What else indeed? She looked in askance at her teapot. There wasn't even enough left for a proper cup, not that Owen would appreciate it anyway.
Owen shook his head.
"It wouldn't be this team without an annual near-death experience," he grunted, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Indeed," Hetty agreed then felt the need to defend them. "It doesn't usually result in an extended hospital stay."
He sighed heavily, almost in disappointment. Hetty reached for that scotch. Like he had said, it was an acceptable hour in England.
