Crow's Nest [✓]

Chapter 16

Thomas smiled as he approached his desk and found Harry waiting for him, lounging comfortably near the pile of files. "Ready to head out?" he asked, glancing around the office; it was deserted now, the others having left hours ago.
Harry got up from his seat, groaning a bit from sitting for too long. "Yeah, I'm ready," he said, stretching his arms above his head.

The office around them was now eerily silent, the only noise the hum of the air-conditioning. The overhead lights had been dimmed, casting long shadows along the empty desks and silent monitors.
Thomas began to pack his belongings, shutting down his computer, sliding files back into their respective drawers. "Let's get out of here," he said, slipping on his coat.

The cool night air had settled in outside, the city traffic a distant rumble through the glass windows of the precinct building.
They walked together towards the exit, the sound of their footsteps echoing through the empty lobby. Pushing open the heavy glass doors, Thomas and Harry stepped out into the crisp night air.

The streets outside were lit up by the city's skyline, cars and cabs making their way down the streets in a ceaseless tide. Thomas took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs, a small release after the stress of the day. He glanced at Harry, noticing the other detective's calm demeanor. "You're awfully quiet," he teased, his voice light.
Harry smiled slightly, shrugging a shoulder. "Just enjoying the night air," he responded, his tone casual.

They reached Thomas' car and got in. Harry had put his bag in the trunk earlier the day, a suggestion from Thomas.
"Don't leave it here in the office," Thomas had said. "Some of the officers might get a bit nosy and snoop around."

Thomas started the car and pulled out of the parking space. Traffic wasn't as bad as it was in the morning. The midday traffic had passed already, Thomas silently thanking every traffic light he gets that's green.

As they drove, Thomas's thoughts flicked momentarily back to the conversation he'd had with the boss earlier. The boss's words about keeping things professional and not turning into 'another Willaim' echoed faintly through his mind. Thomas decided to voice his thoughts, his tone a mix of concern and curiosity. "By the way, the boss wasn't too thrilled about William's state today," he said, his gaze on the sidewalk ahead. "Said he needs to maintain professionalism and not show up like that again."
Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I can imagine this isn't the first time he's pulled a stunt like this?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

Thomas rolled his eyes, a hint of fondness in the gesture. "No, definitely not," he admitted. "William and alcohol are almost like an iconic duo at this point."
Harry chuckled again, the sound low and casual. "Does he always show up on the job like a hot mess?" he inquired, a note of mild amusement still in his voice.

Thomas grimaced slightly, shaking his head. "Not always, but often enough," he replied. "He tends to have a little more trouble holding his liquor during big cases. He'll show up one day with a massive headache, or worse, half-drunk, claiming it helps his creativity."
Harry raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. "Helps his creativity, huh?" he echoed, a smirk touching his lips. "That has to be one of the most interesting excuses I've ever heard for showing up hungover to work."

Thomas sighed. "The worst part is, it actually works for him. He's one of the rare breeds that can function while intoxicated..."
Harry let out a short snort, a look of mild incredulity on his face, his eyes filled with a mix of disbelief and resignation.

"No way," he said, shaking his head. "Seriously? He's one of those guys who can down a bottle and still solve mysteries?"

Thomas nodded, his expression resigned. "Yeah, sadly," he confirmed with a sigh. "He's got a talent for it, or a curse depending how you look at it. The man's liver is made of steel."

Harry laughed lightly, his tone somewhat impressed. "Damn, I need his liver then," he joked, the humor breaking through his otherwise serious demeanor.

Thomas chuckled, the sound tired but amused at Harry's remark. "I'll ask him if you can borrow it next time he's on a bender," he quipped back, his words accompanied by a weary smile.

They continued to make conversation as they drove ranging from topics like music choices to favourite meals and books they have read. It was a nice escape from the horrific life they both had, having to face death everyday. Thomas always thought that maybe, just maybe, when he closes his eyes at night, he can forget every victim's face he's come across.