"Crane, what are you doing?"
"I was merely trying to determine what this is..." Crane responds, holding up Abbie's laptop gingerly by the corner.
Abbie nearly runs to Crane, terrified he may drop and ruin her brand new mac.
"Look, if you don't understand something just ask. It would be a lot safer and probably save me some money too." She looks pointedly at her laptop, then at Crane.
He hangs his head, ashamed. But Abbie understands, she knows he's frustrated too. Despite seeming well adjusted to the 21st century, technology continued to confound him. She takes a moment to gather herself, instantly regretting her snappish attitude.
"Don't feel bad Crane, I know you're having a hard time, but hey, at least you're not alone! I'm here to help whenever you need me. Besides, you've been pretty handy yourself. If you hadn't showed me the tunnels, we never would have gotten to Corbin's files. Plus the archives make a pretty good work space."
"Indeed..." He pauses, contemplating quietly. "I am grateful for your assistance, though I must admit I do occasionally feel like a burden."
"Crane, we're Witnesses, we've been destined to work together for I don't even know how long, I promise, helping you adjust is the easiest thing on my plate right now."
Ichabod nods. Abbie takes the time to look him over as he flips through Corbin's files.
"Although you could use some new clothes...and maybe a haircut."
Ichabod stiffens. "Absolutely not. The styles of your time are horrendous at best." He pauses. "That is of course, meant as no insult to you. You are certainly one of the more attractive people I have seen as of late. That is, your clothes, I mean. Not to say that you yourself are not attractive Leftenant..." Crane closes his eyes and mouth, all too aware that he is making a fool of himself.
Abbie smiles and gives him a minute, understanding his intentions and taking no offense.
"However, a new place to live would be nice. That hotel is infuriating."
"I tell you what, you can come home with me tonight, and we'll work on finding you a place, okay?"
"Miss Mills that is most improper. I am a married man! And you would risk tarnishing your own reputation? Things most certainly have changed," he spits out in horror.
"Crane. To sleep. You can stay in the guest bedroom in my apartment. What on earth were you thinking?" She smiles cheekily, well aware of what he was thinking, but taking pleasure in his discomfort.
Ichabod tugs at his collar as the flush creeps up his neck. "Oh yes, of course. Very well, I would be honored Miss Mills." His blatant attempt to cover his mistake is painfully obvious.
Abbie laughs inwardly at his discomfort. 'Always the gentleman,' she thinks. "Alright Crane, grab your coat, I'm tired and ready to go home."