Mills pulled into the garage of her two story red brick house and turned the vehicle off as Crane stared up at the structure as she regarded him thoughtfully. The bags under his eyes were dark and puffy, his blue eyes were blood shot from exhaustion, and even his hair looked limp. She smirked inwardly as she realized he probably didn't realize washing his hair was part of modern day bathing. She opened the door and waited patiently for him to follow her suit before closing the door.

"This is it." She shrugged as she locked and alarmed the vehicle then led him up the red brick pathway. "It's not much, but it's something and it's the only thing I owe outright."

"One should never apologize for a modest abode." Crane said with conviction as he followed her with his hands behind his back as he took in the tree he remembered being not much more than a seedling when he first arrived in Sleepy Hollow proudly wearing his own redcoat. The shrubs lined up under the windows were a new addition as was the modernized gas street lamp lighting their way from the slender sidewalk. "You earned your home through honest work and determination. That is always something to be proud of."

Mills grinned up at him as she unlocked the door, stepped inside and turned the light on. The interior of the home was painted in a warm, caramelized orange tint with a rich brown sofa and matching sitting chair framing a dark wood coffee table and a stone fireplace as the accent piece. Crane wandered inside, taking it all in with a slight smile playing on his lips. He went to the fireplace, thankful for something more familiar to him and studied the candles. Mills stepped up next to him, her heart beginning to race with the fear of judgment teasing her mind.

"I call it classy clutter." She nodded to the pair of hurricane vases with dismantled grapevine wreaths hugging a pillar candle and topped with a layer of acorns. Between the vases were a set of three oranges that each had a tea light tucked into the top of it with cloves surrounding the candle. "I guess you could call it homemade aromatics."

"It's quite creative and beautiful. A hobby such as this is beneficial to one with a stressful profession such as yours." Crane looked over to the petite woman beside him as she glanced down at the hearth.

"Before you and Headless came into my life, chasing geese or calming spooked horses was about as stressful as things got around here. That's why I was leaving. I wanted a challenge. Something to channel my energy into. To make a difference." Mills side and ran a hand through her hair. "Sure, there were more serious crimes that happened, but they were few and far between. It was almost like they only happened in a dream. Now, we have five people brutally murdered within a month. I'm still waiting to wake up."

"I am sorry for your stress, Miss Mills. If I could, I would most definitely do anything I could to relieve you of it." Crane gave a slight bow to her as she lost herself in his bright blue eyes. She licked her full lips as her heart fluttered in her chest for a different reason.

"Don't be sorry. I wasn't careful for what I wished for. I think I might have some of my ex's clothes that might fit you so I can wash those properly." She went to the hall closet and drummed her fingers on the door as she searched. "Here they are. You can keep these if you like them. You can take a shower while I get some dinner going."

Crane took the set of clothes from him and followed her to the bathroom. He carefully watched her as she sat on the edge of the tub and show him how to adjust the temperature and pressure of the water. She showed him the different liquid After she left and pulled the door ajar, he stripped off his clothes and slipped them hesitantly through the door to her. He cleared his throat and freed his hair from the leather strap before turning to the shower, ready to master the task.

Mills stood before the washer, staring at the unlaced shirt while wondering how to wash the old cloth without destroying it. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of strangely intoxicating manly musk and organic hotel soap.

"Woah, okay, Abbie. Take a moment and get yourself together. He's married and she's one hell of a powerful witch. That is one thing you do not want to mess with." She looked up at the shelf of cleaning supplies, dismissing each detergent as being too harsh until she came across a light blue container her foster mother had given to her to care for the heirloom lace tablecloth. "Well, it won't hurt to try."

She began to soak the clothing then turned her attention to making dinner.

Crane ran a brush through his hair and stared at himself in the foggy mirror as the orange, cream and cranberry colored miniature candles nestled into a stone bowl filled with pebbles flickered. He frowned at his reflection now dressed in a black t-shirt and a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. Compared to the last set of clothing he wore, these were considerably more comfortable against his skin, though he could not help feeling socially unpresentable. He pulled half of his hair up and tied it back with the worn leather strap then walked out towards the dining room where Mills was setting a serving bowl and a platter on the table. She looked up at him and shrugged as she stuffed her hands into her pockets.

"Nothing special. Tomato soup and my twist on grilled cheese." She ladled the soup into a bowl and handed it to him, then filled her own bowl and sat down. She tried to focus on her meal, constantly reminding herself that he was firmly off limits, yet her eyes repeatedly found themselves taking him all in. His soft brown hair that hung in his face, his neatly trimmed beard, and his pronounced clavicle that stood out under the shirt and his lean, muscular arms. Her breathing steadily grew rapid and her mouth grew moist as she forced herself to eat, cursing her animalistic instincts. She licked her lips and pursed them together as he took a bite of his sandwich.

"I can clearly make out bacon, a sweet apple, Gouda and Havarti cheeses with something acidic and slightly spicy." He narrowed his eyes as he thought, chewing slowly as he did.

"That would be mustard."

"Mustard. Hmm." He smirked devilishly at the sandwich then back at Mills. "Miss Mills, this supper is quite amazing."

So are you, Ichabod. Mills gazed softly upon him as he went back to his meal as though it was a fancy dinner.