Mike felt a certain sense of satisfaction while watching Forester weave his way through German bureaucracy, occasionally adding a foreign expletive when he didn't get his way on the first try, and eventually succeeding in waking up some of his connections in the dead of the night, causing an echo of swear words thrown his way.
All in all, judging by the cadence of Forester's language, his broken German disrupting the silence of the bullpen that had emptied a long time ago, things were progressing remarkably well.
Mike was about to get up and refill his glass of water, when Lenny slipped through the door of the Homicide office, shoulders slumped, a half-full Styrofoam cup of coffee in hand, a thick file tucked under one arm, the other one carelessly dangling by his side.
Suffice to say, it had been a long day for all of them.
"Like I always promise, Lieutenant, if you need my help, I'll be there as soon as possible, even if it means working through the night to listen to my good friend."
Despite the cheery tone, he could tell that the enthusiasm had long left the tired Psychiatrist as he walked into the office, and dropped into the guest chair, before placing the coffee cup on his desk.
"Because, you see, I practice what I preach. I want to be the listening ear to the brave souls manning this department, help them deal with the events they encounter in this adventurous and heartbreaking profession. There's no workday long enough when it comes to the mental health of those who have sworn to protect this fine city, just like you have, Lieutenant."
With a faint smile, Mike shook his head, then gestured toward the pile of files he'd prepared for the Psychiatrist.
"Never mind all that flowery talk, Lenny, that's not what I called you for."
The last of the cheery façade quickly left the other man's face as he leaned back, a confused expression clouding his features.
"That's not…? ...But I thought you said you needed help. And I completely understand why, I mean, I've been running therapy sessions for the patrol guys downstairs all afternoon. This case is quite disturbing in its nature. It's perfectly understandable that you would feel-"
"I said I needed help on this case, not that I needed help.", Mike reiterated, trying not to smile at the look of utter devastation on Lenny's face after clearly expecting a pivotal breakthrough when it came to his doctor/patient relationship with the stubborn Lieutenant.
"Oh. Oh…okay…"
Unable to hide his disappointment, Lenny sighed, then ran hand through his disheveled curly hair.
"I've got five suspects here I need you to do a profile on. They're a combination of tips we received, and some R&I work that Steve did. There's a good chance that our killer is one of those guys, so if you can get those back to me first thing in the morning, that'd be fantastic."
His matter-of-fact tone startled the Psychiatrist even more, as his eyes fell on the thick files, then on his wristwatch, then back onto the files.
"But Lieutenant…it's quarter to nine. It's dark out. I've been up conducting therapy sessions since 8AM. It's been a long day."
"Well, it's going to be an even longer day if you drag your feet.", Mike replied facetiously and pointed at the clock above his door frame, "I said our killer might be in that stack, and the sooner we find him, the faster we can put a lid on this thing. We need your help, Lenny, desperately, so how about you get going?"
"Right…"
Hesitantly reaching for the pile of files, Lenny nodded half-heartedly, before clearing his throat again.
"You said first thing tomorrow morning?"
Mike nodded, a wily grin lighting up his features.
"That'd be perfect. I just knew a well-trained and committed professional such as yourself would come through for us."