The Carver Café [Edward/Jacob]

8

Standing at the coffee machine was becoming something of a ritual for Edward. He wasn't really listening to the findings, not bothering with being around for it, as much as he was more idly keeping an ear out for the more casual chatter. During their lunch break they'd take the time to talk about Black. Jacob. They'd huddle around and discuss whatever he'd told them or whatever he was doing that day.

"I dunno. I think he's onto something that he's not saying." Newton admits around what looks like a ham sandwich.

"Maybe he just has another theory." Weber supplies with a shrug. "If he wants us to stay on cults, we stay on cults."

Stanley gives a sigh before sticking a forkful of salad in her mouth.

Newton stands mumbles a casual "coffee" and then he's heading Edward's way. Edward plays the game once more, lifting his mug up to his lips while staring down at a file.

He looks up once Newton steps through the threshold. 

"Newton." He greets casually before going back down to his file.

"Doctor." Newton returns the greeting. It doesn't have the same bashfulness as it usually does. In fact, when he looks up from the file again, the man has an impish grin appearing on his face.

"You know if you wanted to know how he was doing, you could just call him." Newton informs him while fumbling with the creamer. 

He stares blankly, for a moment, at the side of the man's head.

 He's not going to lie, Edward thought that he would be way too stupid to figure out his motives. He was a bumbling fool at the best of times. If he wasn't dumb enough, Edward would hope that he'd be professional enough to just not think too far into the ritual.

"Excuse me?" His voice comes out cold, distant, professional. It was like he'd put a lab coat on his tone and demeanor. This seems to snap Newton back into his place as that anxiousness visibly returns.

"I mean, you're, like, his doctor, right? So, if you wanted to see how he was doing, he could explain it better." He fumbles through the explanation, "Or I could just give you his address."

Edward stares at the officer for a long moment.

"Would you like to talk about other topics? How the case is going?" He asks, voice still icy as he glances back at his file.

"I-I'm not currently allowed to speak about that." Newton mumbles and Edward knows that's just code for they don't have squat. They've hit a brick wall. He's the ME he's staring down at the dead bodies, he's providing most of their information.

Newton fumbles through putting the sugar in his coffee. He takes a beat and then he finally musters up the courage to speak again.

"Thought you weren't interested in all of that stuff." He seemingly huffs.

"I'm not." Edward admits. He doesn't give a fuck. He'd wanted the case to run cold and it had. He'd gotten his wish. He doesn't want the detective to get discouraged or upset about it, he would provide enough to keep them hoping, but he didn't really want them to solve it. So, no, he didn't care.

Newton peeks up at him again.

"He's doing alright. Just grumpy." The man grabs a wooden stick and starts stirring his coffee.

Edward doesn't respond. He can admit that being called out for his behavior wasn't pleasant. It was like a bucket of cold water. Emmett and Jasper were one thing. They were falling in love and they just didn't want to leave him behind. Newton, a complete and utter stranger, calling him out...This coffee was starting to taste disgusting.