chapter word count: 575

noir heart: eighty-five

Messy-haired and bleary-eyed, Jack pushes open the doors to the unit room, stifling probably the world's most cavernous yawn. Much to the disdainful frowns of everyone present, of course, but that's nothing new.

The night before had been nothing short of something he'd like to have forgotten with an entire bottle of whiskey - but Elsa's surprise visit-slash-break-and-enter had left him oddly unwilling to even touch the stuff. The very idea of a glass of the amber liquid turned him off. So, much to Beatrice's pleasant surprise she found herself the proud owner of a second bottle.

So, messy-haired, bleary-eyed, and suffering the effects of withdrawal, too. It's shaping up to be a fantastic day - but there's only one thing on his mind that might turn that particular statement from sarcastic to mildly appropriate.

Passing between the desks, choosing to let the sounds of detective office life blur into an indiscernible mess, Jack swallows through a swollen throat and makes a beeline for the coffee machine against the wall to the right of his desk, under a poster reminding everyone of the importance in reading a suspect their Miranda rights.

It's when he's about six feet away that a smartly-suited Aster catches up with him, having looked up from the work on his desk. "Hey mate...jeez, you look like hell," he says, wincing.

"Really?" Jack croaks, eyes on the maker of liquid glory, "I hadn't noticed."

"Seriously. What the hell were you doing last night?" Aster gapes.

Does he need to know the details? How Rapunzel basically told him in no uncertain terms that they weren't getting back together, and how Elsa put a nice new bullet-hole in his wall. How the knowledge that she easily got under his skin and pulled out his emotions is both scaring him and fascinating him, considering only one other person was able to do that. How she straight-up told him, despite knowing him for less than a day, that she'd never give up on him. That part confuses the hell out of him.

So he skips to the footnotes, of everything that happened after Elsa left. "I was struck with the urge to rearrange the furniture in my apartment," he says, and there's an element of truth. Elsa essentially invaded his privacy - again - so to maintain some sort of control and to remind him that the apartment was still his safe space, he made it look completely different and therefore his.

He reaches the coffee machine, mouth salivating at the prospect of heavenly caffeinated liquid fit only to strip paint, lubricate engines and interrogate terrorists - and his heart sinks to the floor. It's clearly hot...but also empty.

Snickering from behind him attracts his ears. Turning just enough, his eyes rest upon Aster, who's holding a mug of coffee under his smirking lips. A mug that's steaming, and fresh. Didn't even have the courtesy to refill the jug.

Asshole.

Jack scowls, and suppresses with great difficulty the urge to punch him in the face. "There's a special place in hell for people like you."

"Oh, really?" Aster chuckles evilly, and takes a drawn-out sip of his coffee.

"Yeah. It's got politicians, social justice warriors, and people who think Fifty Shades of Grey is a well-written book."

"e.l james is a great author" - no-one, ever. Oh - was trying to remember how to throw a boomerang once. It came back to me, eventually.

special thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'd name you all, but FFN is still being stupid.