Thanks to a small Styrofoam container, their dinner had stayed warm enough that a short time in the oven was all it took to return it to restaurant quality. The grilled salmon on a bed of lightly seasoned jasmine rice was so scrumptious that Steve regretted not setting foot into Hank and Barry's more often.
As he devoured the last of his steamed broccoli and baby carrots, his eyes fell onto Hank, who'd barely finished half his meal, his fork absent-mindedly digging through the assortment of vegetables.
Washing the rest of his food down with a sip of beer, Steve threw his napkin aside, before straightening back out again in his bar chair turned restaurant high-top.
"Alright, spill it. What is on your mind?"
The candid question made Hank flinch ever so slightly, his free hand reaching forward, as if to touch Steve's, then withdrawing it as fast as it appeared.
"I can't even call it coherent thoughts, my friend. It's just a jumbled mess of emotions. All over the place."
"Well, that's pretty understandable, don't you think?", Steve offered with a genial smile and reached over to move his empty plate onto the nearby kitchen counter, "A lot has happened in just under a week. There was a terrible shooting at your club, you lost your life partner, then there's the memorial and the continuous attacks on your person, the press has been mercilessly haunting you…it's a lot, you know. I don't have a clue how you do it."
Nodding slightly, Hank pushed his plate aside, then crossed is arms over his chest, as if it would help keep them where they belonged.
"That makes two of us, Stephen Jacob. See, here you're doing this again…"
With a frustrated grunt, he shook his head, then glanced up at Steve with teary eyes and a heartbreaking smile.
"At the abyss of complete evil, at the worst time in somebody's life you always…somehow find the right words to comfort others, make them feel as though they aren't alone in their pain. You have this amazing gift to penetrate those walls of…of hurt, and anger, and disappointment and you allow those who have been wronged to once again flourish in the light of your wisdom and genuine concern. You gave me a second chance after I was less than friendly to you this morning, when I said things that I bitterly regret now. My words, full of selfishness and hatred were poorly thought out and meant to hurt the one person I know who has dedicated his life, his entire existence to make this world a better place. And for that I ask for your forgiveness."
The ensuing stillness between them felt burdensome on one side, but like a much needed reprieve on the other, as Steve searched that supposedly wise mind of his for a fitting answer. Mike's gentle warning was fresh in the back of his head, cautioning him that Hank might be looking for more than just friendly companionship; that trauma as severe as the mass shooting could be enough to unleash unreasonable expectations of others, mixed feelings even, and to maintain the upper hand whenever he was dealing with the bar owner.
Reaching up to loosen his purple tie in a symbolic gesture to get some more air, Steve pursed his lips, swallowing the slightly bitter aftertaste of the top-shelf lager Hank had brought over as a peace offering, then nodded.
"Like I said, it's been a tough case. For anybody involved, but especially you. I can only hope that our investigation over the next few days will bring you some much-needed closure, the ability to move on from this harrowing experience."
The caring words, said in professional neutrality, changed Hank's demeanor, as the bar owner played with the sleeves of his navy dress shirt, shoving them up on either side, before clearing his throat.
"Boy, you sure have a way to switch from human being back to police officer, don't you?"
"Hank, what do you expect? This is my job. That's what I do day in and out."
"I know, I know, I am sorry. You are right.", the other man interjected and took a sip of beer, as he reached over to squeeze the young Inspector's wrist, "I don't know what's with me lately. This was completely uncalled for. And you are right, I certainly appreciate all your effort into solving this case. It's a…a horrendous incident and will leave a stain on this city if the killer gets away."
Will leave a stain on this city…Steve had heard the expression before, definitely in the context of homosexuality.
When his taxed mind couldn't remember the connection, he glanced over at Hank, brows furrowed.
"Who did you talk to that used such language? Was somebody at Barry's funeral this afternoon spouting this off?"
Slightly taken aback, Hank hesitated, then cocked his head.
"Listen, I…I didn't mean to offend you, Stephen Jacob…"
"You didn't offend me. I just want to know where you heard this? Who used that terminology?"
Sensing the seriousness and urgency in the young Inspector's words, Hank hesitantly reached into his pant pocket and retrieved a folded-up note to hand over.
"Riley Harris. He was…he was at the funeral expressing his condolences. Very, very nice man. I've always had great respect for him. He was…passing these out afterward and I think it makes a lot of sense. Not sure if you guys like to see that, but I can't blame him for trying to be proactive and all. We are scared to death of this shooter and what he might do next."
With his eyebrows raised in unmasked skepticism, Steve glanced over the sheet that served as an invite to all store owners in the Market & Kearney neighborhood to participate in a protection fund that would pay for two fulltime retired veterans to walk the streets and keep the area safe of anybody with questionable intentions.
"I mean…I guess you can't blame us, Stephen Jacob.", Hank muttered insecurely, when the young Inspector remained quiet, "It's nothing against you guys at all. We're just trying to…you know…stay safe."
"And you think that forming a militia will solve your problems? Fighting fire with fire? What are you going to do next? Arbitrary citizen arrests that target anybody who doesn't look like they belong into your neighborhood? Take matters into your own hands because you don't want to wait for the police to enforce laws by the book? Do you want anybody with an opinion to decide what's right or wrong, who gets thrown in jail and who doesn't based on the majority vote? Of all people, I really thought you'd know better than that, Hank."
With an indifferent shrug, the bar owner lowered his head in shame.
"I didn't say that I signed up for it yet. He just started passing these around this afternoon. I don't know if anybody has signed up for it yet."
"Well, it's going to stop right here. Hank, I need a list of everybody that attended Barry's funeral and may have received this flyer. I will share it with Mike first thing in the morning and have a stern talk with Riley. The last thing we need is a citizen's army in the crosshairs of danger, trying to cause more trouble than we already have on our hands."