As expected, the bullpen was empty by the time he returned close to 8pm. The press conference and following debriefing with Conden and Olsen had robbed all of Mike's reserves, the insecurities and doubt fed by the ruthless questions of the press poisoning his exhausted mind that evening.
He wasn't surprised to see Steve's desk empty, hoping that the young Inspector would use common sense and get some rest to prepare for whatever the next few days held in store. Realistically though, much to Mike's dismay, female companionship was more than likely his choice for mental decompression in lieu of sleep.
What he had expected to see was an overzealous FBI Captain sitting by his desk and going through files, continuing the proverbial nitpicking from earlier in the day. But instead, much to his surprise, it was Lenny waiting for him.
"What are you still doing here?"
The gruff greeting was answered with an indifferent shrug, as the Psychiatrist leaned back in the guest chair and ran a hand through his disheveled curly hair.
"The same thing you're still doing here. Your job. Good day to you too, Lieutenant."
Realizing that his patience was stretched as thin as a sheet of paper after being put through the wringer by the press, Mike scoffed at the remark, then paused to pour himself a glass of water.
"Well, I know what my job entails, the question is why are you here. I don't recall any of my men requesting your services. That is, unless you got something for us on our killer."
"Boy oh boy, I have more respect for Stephen every time I see you after a long day, Lieutenant. I don't know how he puts up with that day in and out. He must have the most forgiving nature of anybody I have ever encountered.", Lenny waited until Mike turned around to glare at him before continuing, "But, for what it's worth, I just stopped by for a quick welfare visit. Talked to Bill and Stephen. Said Hi to your guy from Boston. Now I am checking in on you. Been getting any sleep lately?"
"Between you and Forester constantly gracing me with your unsolicited advice, I'd say that's impossible. I should be on my way home now to get some rest, but here we are…"
Mike knew he was walking a fine line with the Psychiatrist, hoping that his 2-decade rapport with Lenny would be enough to let him get away with the cantankerous outburst, if nothing else to release some pent-up frustration.
"What's your beef with him? He seems like a nice enough guy. He and Steve were having a pretty good conversation when I stopped by earlier. I didn't sense any tension in your partner's mannerism at all."
Raising his eyebrows in suspicion, Mike sat down at his desk, trying to ignore the lower back pain stemming from too much stress packed into way too long of a day.
"What are you talking about? That's not what was happening when I left. More or less the opposite. You sure we're talking about the same guy here?"
He could tell that his remark had raised Lenny's curiosity when the Psychiatrist leaned forward and weaved his hands on his desk, nervously tapping his index fingers against each other.
"Well, he was the only guy in here I didn't know and he has an awful accent. Plus, he was sitting in your chair and introduced himself as Arthur Forester from Boston. Unless there's two of them around, I am talking about that guy. So, what's he got against you and not your partner?"
"Beats me. He had us both with our backs against the wall when we came back from seeing Riley. I admit that some of his ideas were pretty good, but his…personality is quite abrasive."
"Sounds like somebody else I know…", Lenny joked, hoping to get the Lieutenant to relax a bit more, even if it meant being on the receiving end of his wrath, "For what it's worth, nope, they were talking about places for dinner around here, I believe. I didn't see any of Steve's usual tense antics. And Forester seemed open minded, even smiled. I never would have guessed something is going on from watching that conversation."
Mike couldn't help a growing unease spreading in his gut at the news, wondering if Steve had either shifted to complete psychology mode and reached the tiny iota of humanity hidden somewhere inside the obstinate man, or if something else had happened during his absence that could explain the perplexing change.
"What is this? You got a little handbook on everybody in the department that tells you how people feel based on which side of their mouth they're talking out of?"
With a knowing smile, Lenny tapped his fingers even faster, before clearing his throat.
"Absolutely Lieutenant. As a highly trained Psychiatrist, I wouldn't want it any other way. My handbook on you two is the thickest of all. You see, Stephen is pretty easy to read. He just starts to fidget with his belt buckle or gets that…that glazed look in his eyes, flushes up a bit when he gets overwhelmed. You on the other hand, Lieutenant, you are a wealth of knowledge for anybody with half a sense in Psychology. See, you think you're so subtle, so covert, but that look in your eyes always gives it away. When you don't get your way, you start to play with the button on your vest, or you bite your lip. If you're mad at the world, you keep your hands clenched into tight fists, even when you drink coffee or eat a burger. But the single worst thing is when something's feeding at your soul. When you are full of doubt, and when you worry about your partner. Even if you don't want anybody to know, it's quite obvious because you become aggressive and bark at anybody and everybody in your way. Your eyes become distant, your shoulders tense, your breathing shallow. I can practically see the lines of worry on your face and you also subconsciously keep glancing at the phone as if you pray for it to ring…pretty much what you're doing right about now."