Spoilers:LtSB

*****

~Spectacle~

She stood in the doorway, and watched him take his glasses off. She hated it when he did that. Whenever she said something he couldn't process right away, he bought himself time by taking off his glasses. It was like she could give him an instant migraine, just by talking. It was incredibly frustrating. Last time, he hadn't even answered her, just asked another question. She hated that too. How he answered her questions with his own. Sometimes, she wondered why she even bothered.

He had finished taking his glassed off now, and was still looking at his lap. Suddenly, Sara decided she just couldn't take it anymore. She turned and walked away before he looked up. She didn't want to know what his question would be. She didn't want to scream at him when he asked it.

She went into the locker room and began to collect her stuff to go home. The room was empty and she was grateful for the solitude. She sat down heavily on the bench, and put her head in her hands as she thought. She didn't hear the door open, nor did she here him enter the room, and shut the door quietly behind him.

He knew she would sense his presence. She always did, and he couldn't understand why. Of course he detected her presence the instant she entered , but that was entirely different, wasn't it? It was probably pheromones.

She looked up, and felt every kind emotion she was capable of feeling run across her face, settling finally into the professional detachment she had spent years developing. His face was guarded, but there was nothing unusual about that. His eyes had a slightly different cast to them, if she didn't know better she'd have said it was panic. She quirked her eyebrows, but silently promised herself she would not be the first one to talk.

He knew it was his turn. She had put the ball in his court, and it was his turn to talk first. And that it was not his place to ask a question.

"I am glad you are finding something to do." He began. "Tell me about the winery."

"I wasn't really there long enough to get an idea." She said it with no malice.

"I'm sorry." He said simply. It was enough for her. It was the answer he hadn't given earlier. "I guess I just got used to you always being ready for a case."

"I'd rather do a case than visit a winery." She replied.

"I know." He answered, and then quickly "Do you want to go for breakfast?"

She froze, and looked at him. His face was unlike she had ever seen it before, both unsure and desperately hopeful. He was still wearing his glasses.

She smiled.

"I'd love to."