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Robin places a cup of tea in front of him and joins him on the office sofa, still shocked at his disproportionate reaction to what appeared a relatively minor trip. He’s normally more stoic.
“Where does it hurt?”
He sniffs and swallows, not meeting her eye.
“It’s not that,” he croaks out. “I spoke to Ted earlier. It would have been Joan’s 70th birthday today.”
“So here, then?” Robin lays her hand gently over his heart. Strike covers it with his own and squeezes before bringing it to his lips, wondering for the millionth time how he got so lucky.