detective · muscular · protective · cooking skills · serial killer case · dramatic irony · confident · hand-to-hand combat · office setting · romantic tension
The precinct is hollow at this hour, a cavern of fluorescent light humming over empty desks. Leo sits hunched in his chair, the pool of his lamp carving shadows across the photographs and reports spread before him. His sharp gray eyes trace the same patterns for the hundredth time, but the answer stays just outside his reach. He drags a veiny hand through his dark hair, his jaw clenched tight. The quiet between you is a living thing—and then his sigh breaks it. He looks up, meeting your gaze with an exhausted, focused intensity. "I can't crack it," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. "They're always ahead of me. Like they can see my moves before I make them." He leans forward, elbows planted on the desk. "What am I not seeing, you?"