Sharon grabbed the compact from her purse and quickly checked herself. It was late afternoon and she had just been summoned, once again, to Priority Homicide. This time, thankfully, not because anyone on the squad had done something…questionable. Apparently a suspect they had in custody had been peripherally involved in an IA investigation several years ago and the Chief wanted more information. Her hair was in order, but she took a moment to freshen up her lipstick before grabbing a file and heading upstairs.

It was…different…walking into the murder room without the pressure of an active FID investigation and the ticking clock counting down to her reporting deadline. Usually the waves of hostility and defensiveness rolling off the team hit her like a brick wall as soon as she entered their space, but Sharon barely felt the need to brace herself before crossing the room and stopping to stand in the doorway to the Chief's office.

She could still feel their hackles go up as she passed through–she did tend to have that effect on people in this building–but no snide remarks were tossed in her direction, just a few wary sidelong glances. They were clearly relieved at not being under her scrutiny this time, but there was also a skittishness about them, like they were worried too much noise or movement would somehow draw her attention back to them. She almost chuckled at that, but managed to keep her mask of cool indifference in place as she shifted her focus to the woman who had requested her assistance. Yes, it was definitely a different dynamic today.

Brenda was finishing up a phone call but gestured to the Captain to enter and close the door. As she waited for the conversation to wrap up, Sharon surveyed the room. The Chief looked less tired than she had the previous day, though whoever she was talking to seemed to be trying her patience a bit. Takeout containers and candy wrappers filled the small garbage can, which was almost overflowing, and there were papers spread out everywhere across her desk. It's a wonder she was even able to find the phone in all the chaos.

Brenda stretched the cord on her desk phone and carefully rolled her chair over closer to her handbag. With her free hand, she started rummaging around for something while saying "Mmhmm" and nodding even though the person she was talking to couldn't see her. Who was she talking to, Chief Pope maybe? There was a pause and she took the opportunity to stretch a little further, pulling her bag closer to her to continue her search and uttering an overly cheerful "Oh isn't that nice!" to whomever was on the other end as she did so.

Sharon's eyes widened, both eyebrows raising briefly in surprise when the handbag was moved to reveal a lone, familiar, coffee cup. It was clearly empty, why was it tucked almost behind the desk by the Chief's purse and not in the garbage can with everything else? It had been more than 24 hours now since she had dropped off the coffee for Brenda, and while the garbage can was full, there was certainly still room for another cup or two and a few more strategically-placed Ding Dong wrappers. Was she saving it? The hint of a smirk curled at the corner of Sharon's lip before she could help it.

"Yes mamma, that's right." Definitely NOT Pope then. The blonde looked up for a minute as she shifted, still on the phone, and Sharon hoped she schooled her features in time. Holding her hand over the phone, the Chief said "Take a seat, Cap'n." It didn't seem like she noticed. Or maybe she just assumed Sharon's reaction was related to the fact that Brenda was talking to her mamma.

Finally hanging up the phone with a sigh and an apologetic eye roll, the Chief turned her attention to the waiting Captain. Maybe because she had just been talking to her family, maybe because her team wasn't under investigation this time, but whatever the reason, when their eyes met, it was devoid of any traces of the tension and thinly-veiled animosity that had become the hallmark of their professional atmosphere seemed easier, almost collegial as Brenda brought the Captain up-to-speed on their case and began asking questions about the brunette's dealings with the suspect during her previous IA investigation.

To Brenda's surprise, Captain Raydor was actually…helpful…? It was weird. She thought she'd caught the brunette smiling faintly when she looked up from her call. But really, what was she supposed to do when her Mamma ambushed her by calling her work phone?! And when she sat down, Sharon hadn't remained perched on the edge of her seat, back ramrod straight, papers serving as a shield in front of her like she usually did. Brenda had watched with curiosity as the Captain slid the file across the desk, crossed her leg toward the Chief and leaned slightly on one arm of her chair looking almost…at ease. Something was different. What was going on?

Sharon had listened attentively and answered the blonde's questions openly without evasion or pushback. She had brought the file with her instead of only sharing curated details from her memory banks and citing regulations and confidentiality when pressed for more. She never once crossed her arms or shoved her hands into her pockets.

The whole interaction was almost…pleasant? She had never once considered that word in relation to Sharon Raydor. Before today if you had asked her, the venn diagram of Raydor and the word "pleasant" would have been on separate sheets of paper maybe a few states away, but today, it was almost a perfect overlap. Even though she had asked for the woman's assistance, the reality of actually collaborating with the Captain this time was confusing.

At the end of their conversation, Brenda found herself uttering a familiar "Thank you, thank you so much," but with sincerity this time, not laced with the usual vitriol. It sounded foreign to her own ears and it must have to the Captain's, too, because she cocked her head slightly to the side and paused briefly before nodding, collecting the file, and standing up to leave.

Sharon stopped at the door, hand on the knob, and turned to face the Chief once more. From this angle, the cup was still in full view on the floor next to her desk. "Good luck with your case, Chief. I hope you get him," faint traces of a smile threatening to tug at the corners of her mouth before she turned back to the door, opened it, and stepped back out into the murder room.

Yes, something was definitely…different…

. . .

Thanks to the Captain's help, they did get him. Later that evening Brenda gathered up her things to head home for a shower and some much-needed rest. She turned to stand up from her desk, reaching for her handbag, and accidentally kicked the empty coffee cup. It must have gotten knocked over at some point and rolled under the edge of her desk. She had completely forgotten about it! She tucked it into her bag and headed out the door.

After her shower, she flopped onto her bed, ready to let sleep finally take her when the image of the coffee cup popped back into her head. She let out a deep sigh. There was no way she was going to get any rest until she figured out where it came from. Lt. Tao or Buzz probably would have been able to run some fancy reverse image search on the logo and find the place in a matter of minutes, but it took Brenda a lot longer to try and figure it out on her own. Part of her wished she had asked one of them for help, but that would have raised too many other questions.

Eventually, she found the place. A small local coffee shop some distance from Parker Center and tucked away in a neighborhood such that it was off the main roads. She was certain no one she knew had ever mentioned it and she'd definitely never seen a to-go cup like that anywhere at Parker Center before. Hmm...Brenda scribbled the address on a scrap of paper she found on her nightstand and figured that was good enough for now. She was exhausted. She closed her computer and crawled under the covers, resolving to make a trip there to check it out when she had more time and energy. But for now, she was ready to finally get some sleep.