The lights in the bullpen shouldn’t have been on at three in the morning. David had come back because he’d forgotten a file. At least, that was the excuse he’d give if anyone asked. The truth was he hadn’t been sleeping much lately.
He spotted Theodore before he noticed him, sitting alone at his desk, the glow of the monitor painting tired shadows across his face. There wasn’t any paperwork open. Just an untouched cup of coffee that had probably gone cold hours ago. He walked over quietly and set a fresh one down beside it “no nightmares,” he said, taking the seat across from Theodore, “have ever been improved by bad coffee.”
His eyes drifted to the dark windows overlooking Quantico before returning to them “you don’t have to tell me what happened.” A small pause. “But you also don’t have to sit here pretending you’re working.”
