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The night air in Jamrock carries a heaviness to it that's not just the pollution in the night sky, shielding the brightness of the stars. Aside from the thickness of fumes and smoke from cigarettes and fireplaces, it settles deep into the lungs, reminding that every breath could be the last. But it also carries stories - stories of death and blood, of children playing and of the people that walk it's streets. The city never sleeps, not really, and the night air is full of life, despite it all.
A night like any other blankets precinct 41st's finest as they try to wash away the heaviness the sun had settled on their shoulders during the day. A bar like any other, cheapest they could find, shields them from the chilly breeze. Another case closed, one of many more waiting for them when they return from the embrace of the night air.
Trant is the first to leave, having to get back home to Mikael. Torson and McLaine are the first to pass out on their shared table - either from exhaustion or the alcohol, possibly from both. That left Harry, Kim, Judit and Jean to try and celebrate the successful end to the case. This late in the evening, though, no one is in the mood for loud festivities. Except for Jean and Harry's occasional bickering, they are quiet in the lowly lit bar.
Harry was staying strictly away from anything alcoholic. They all had noticed that, and tried not to be obvious how it eased their mood - he'd relapsed once in the past year, and although it hadn't been as catastrophic as the past, it was still a relief when he so obviously tried to not let it happen again. Kim was pleased with him, it was evident in every way.
Jean, however, was not. The satellite-officer had resigned to be from suspiciously pessimistic about Harry's sobriety, expecting him to fall back to his old ways, to wearily accepting the change in his ex-partner in the months after the Hanged Man case.
Judit didn't know what to make of it. She was more optimistically inclined than Jean, that was for sure - she appreciated Harry's strength of will, respected it even. She could see that Harry was trying, and that was something that mattered. She could also see who he was trying for and well...
Everyone on the team knew of Lieutenant Bu Bois's... fascination with Lieutenant Kitsuragi. The way they worked together was unconventional, but affective. Stable. Valuable. Judit knew before anyone else what it meant. The soft way the Lieutenant smiled at Harry, a smile reserved only for him, was undeniable. The way Harry shined brighter when he was with him. The way they sought each other out. The way they simply fit together.
Judit knew. Judit also knew that Jean saw these things, too.
The night air is heavy in Jamrock, but just what Harry needs - an escape from the stuffy atmosphere inside the little bar. He leans on the rusted rails of the balcony and tries to count the stars above the smog in the sky. Judit joins him after a while, the creak of the balcony door interrupting Harry from his search, and offers him a cigarette.
"I didn't know you smoked." Harry says as he takes one from the carton. Judit smiles as she takes one for herself and lights up.
"I don't," she exhales, the smoke disappearing into the city, "not usually."
Harry studies her for a moment, can't help it, a detective never rests, and lights his own cigarette. Red illuminates half of his face - better looking than Judit ever remebers seeing.
"What's unusual about tonight?"
Judit snickers, and taps the cigarette with a finger onto the street below.
"This case...," she inhales, then huffs out a breath, "I'm just glad it's finally over."
Harry hums, and flicks at the bottom of the filter to let the ash be swept away by the breeze.
Before he can say anything, Judit turns to him, "How is Lieutenant Kitsuragi?"
Harry looks at her, eyes widening for the briefest of moments. They both know the case had hit a nerve in the Lieutenant - he'd been more wound up than usual, and stricter. Colder. The victim had been someone he once knew.
"He's... why don't you ask him? He's right there." Harry points his thumb over his shoulder, to where Kim sits inside, flicking pages in his blue notebook.
Judit shakes her head.
"You know how he is. He won't tell me the truth," she taps her cigarette on the balcony rail, "but he trusts you, so I'd imagine you know."
Harry inhales a long breath, and sighs, "He's okay. Better now that we found the asshole who did it."
He flicks the filter, and looks thoughtful for a second. "The guy... they weren't close, I don't think. Kim said they were in the same training group, for the RCM. But it's still hard, seeing someone you know..."
Judit looks away and tracks the ash that falls from her cigarette to the ground below, "Yes, I understand."
But Kim has Harry. And she knows Harry will take care of him. In their own way, they'll be alright. She smiles, then, and turns back to him.
"Take care of him, alright? I know that you will, but I felt like I needed to say it anyway." Harry looks at her, and she smiles wider.
"He values you, trust me. Don't lose that." she stubs her cigarette on the rail and places a gentle hand on Harry's arm as she turns to leave. In her peripheral vision, Harry nods.
She bumps into Kim on her way in, and she smiles at him as she holds the door open. He smiles in turn, taking his cigarette pack out of his bomber jacket as he heads to Harry.The balcony door closes with a creak.
Judit spots Jean sitting next to Torson with his head in his hands, staring down at his beer like it's personally offended him. She heads over to him, sitting beside him. Jean startles slightly, then relaxes when he sees her.
"Is he threatening jumping off the balcony again?" Jean says with a humorless bitter smile. Judit frowns.
"He's not like before, not anymore. You know this."
Jean scoffs.
"You need to accept that and move on, Jean." Judit says, pleads almost. She wants to reach out a hand, but refrains. Jean looks like he's about to argue, but then sags in his seat in defeat. He's battling his own demons, quietly, not announcing it to the whole world like Harry used to do. Still does, albeit not drunkenly. But Jean has always been the more reserved of the two of them. Always carrying around Harry's actions with him. Judit knows this too. She looks at him sadly.
"Are you still in love with him?" she asks, her voice a gentle whisper. Jean doesn't even flinch at her words, just sighs, then snorts, and runs his hands down his face.
"Hell no. Haven't been in a long, long time."
"And what about Lieutenant Kitsuragi?"
Jean looks at her, then, from behind his fingers, before setting them down on the table.
"What about him?"
Judit looks away, to where she can see two silhouettes standing close together on the balcony.
"He's very capable, responsible," she says, trying not to feel petulant, but fails, "good at what he does, no?"
Jean continues to stay quiet, and she doesn't dare look back at him. She crosses her hands over her chest loosely.
"Handsome too, don't you think?" she says, only partially bitter. She likes the Lieutenant, respects him, he's her friend. And yet...
She looks back at Jean sharply when he snorts, and turns as red as a tomato when Jean laughs, pointing at her.
"What?", she half shouts, leaning towards him, slapping his finger away, "What?!"
Jean wipes tears from his eyes, and ignores the daggers Judit's glaring at him.
"You think," he stops to cough, then giggles again, "you think I like Lieutenant Kitsuragi?"
"I don't get why that is funny. It's not that ridiculous of an assumption, is it?"
She ignores how the skin on her face continues to burn.
"He is an amazing detective and a good man," she starts, but Jean cuts her off.
"It sounds like you're the one who likes him."
She turns sharply to glare at him once more, and he laughs again.
"I don't- I never-"
She stills when he reaches out and untangles her arms, taking one of her hands into his own.
"I do not like Kitsuragi, no."
Her breath stutters when he runs his fingers over her knuckles.
"And you better not, either. Have you not seen the way those two look at one another? With goo-goo eyes all day, every day? Seriously, it's starting to really get on my nerves. I mean, Harry, I get, he wears his goddamn heart on his sleeve, but Kitsuragi? I swear Harry did something to him, bewitched him or some shit! I can't believe it half the time..."
Judit's shaking with silent laughter, shoulders hunched up and eyes glinting with amusement. Jean smiles when he sees.
"You get what I mean, right? That fucker cast some love spell, and now they can't get out of each other's back pocket's! The way they talk is enough to make me gag, I can barely stand them!"
Judit nods, laughter creasing around her eyes. It makes Jean feel drunker looking at her smiling so much.
"At this point the only question that remains is when's the wedding," when the balcony door opens and Harry steps in with Kim in tow, Jean turns to them and shouts "Hey, shitkid! When's the goddamn wedding?"
Both he and Judit burst into giggles, leaning towards each other, heads bumping. Harry and Kim exchange a questioning look, then slowly retreat to the balcony, not wanting to get involved in whatever is happening.
When the giggling fit passes, and Jean realizes how close they are, he quickly leans back. Judit clears her throat while Jean pretends to fix his lapel.
When they look back at each other at the same time, they both freeze. Jean brings his hand slowly up and tucks a loose strand of hair behind Judit's ear gently. Judit smiles warmly, and Yeah, Jean thinks, I got it real bad.