The case was resolved quickly, proving the effectiveness of the Intelligence Unit. They returned to the station with the perpetrator of the crimes and his accomplice under arrest, and all the necessary evidence secured. The recovered phone confirmed Jeffrey Baker's direct involvement and documented the acts he had ordered and recorded.
With all the evidence stacked against him, there was no longer any room for denial. Baker was transferred into custody by another unit.
In the end, only Ethan, Erin, and Hank remained, watching as Baker and Vance were taken away. The case was closed. As almost always, Major Crimes would get the credit for the arrest. That was how the job worked—there was nothing to be done about it.
Erin turned to look at Ethan.
—Don't forget what you promised me. I'll see you at eight… don't be late. —Erin said, giving him a light tap on the chest with her open hand.—
Ethan raised an eyebrow but didn't get a chance to respond, as Erin walked off quickly. Hank, who had been watching the entire exchange, shot him a suspicious look.
—So where are you two going tonight? —he finally asked.
—She was invited to a reunion, and maybe we'll grab a drink afterward. —Ethan clarified, putting out his cigarette.—
Hank didn't reply right away. He studied him calmly, as if weighing something beyond the words. He knew Erin could take care of herself; she always had. Ethan was a decent guy, though not exactly the kind of man he would have chosen for someone like Lindsay.
Hank nodded slowly.
—I see…
There was a brief silence.
—Erin's been through a lot —he added quietly—. Don't break her heart.
Ethan nodded without saying a word.
Hank turned around and headed up the stairs. He kept the rest to himself.
Ethan stood still for a moment, still trying to process everything. Then he flipped the switch on the wall and watched as the metal shutter slid down with a slow, mechanical hum.
When he returned upstairs, the atmosphere had changed. The tense looks were gone, and for the first time in hours, the pressure seemed to have lifted with the case closed.
A group had gathered around the board, reviewing the case. It was an interesting process, one that helped them understand every detail better; that was how experience was built.
Ethan walked over to Rollins and her partner and shook their hands.
—Detectives, thank you. Without your help, this would've been a lot more complicated.
—That's what we're here for —Amanda replied, shaking his hand with a genuine smile—. It's part of the job.
Ethan watched as she and Odafin began packing up their things.
—What are you doing? —he asked, frowning—. Don't tell me you're leaving already.
—We're just packing up and heading back to the hotel —Rollins explained, closing her laptop—. Honestly, I didn't expect the case to wrap up this fast. We bought tickets for early tomorrow morning.
At that moment, Rusek turned toward everyone, energized.
—Tonight, we're going to Molly's to celebrate.
Olinsky shook his head, amused, and Antonio let out a short laugh.
Rollins looked at Ethan curiously.
—What about you? You coming?
Before he could answer, he felt Erin's presence behind him. She didn't say a word, but her look said everything.
—I have… an engagement tonight —Ethan replied, choosing his words carefully—. But if I have time, I'll catch up with you. I promise.
Rollins raised an eyebrow, amused.
—Alright —she said—. Then we'll see you there.
Rusek clapped his hands.
—Perfect. Molly's Bar. Eight sharp. No excuses.
The tension of the day slowly began to fade, replaced by the familiar feeling of a job well done and simple plans: a beer, good company, and for a few hours, nothing else to worry about.
Rollins nodded and turned her attention back to the board.
It wasn't time to leave yet, but Erin was already packing her things. Before going, she winked at him. The case was solved; there was nothing left to do there. She had a promise to keep, and she intended to do just that. Ethan understood the message and slipped away shortly after.
They parted without drawing attention, each heading in a different direction.
Erin's reunion was going to be a dinner, and there was still time. Ethan stopped first at a barbershop before going home. At their suggestion, he had his hair slicked back. The result was almost identical to Brad Pitt's look in Fury. Later, at home, he rested for half an hour and then took an unhurried shower, letting the fatigue of the day wash down the drain.
When he put on the black suit, he studied himself in the mirror. He hesitated for a second, then removed the tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.
With a slight twist of his wrist, the watch appeared in his hand. It was an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak. In 2017, it was valued at around thirty thousand dollars. At first glance, it didn't look flashy, which was why he'd accepted it without hesitation.
It had been a gift from Nora.
During his time in Mexico, seeing Skinny's watch collection—and giving the one he'd obtained as a gift to Lotus—had sparked a new interest, one he hadn't anticipated.
When he mentioned to Nora that he was thinking of getting one for himself, she gave him no choice. She wanted to give him the first watch in his collection. And she didn't take no for an answer.
Besides, it was exactly the kind of watch he liked: understated, not ostentatious.
Since he'd started working, he'd always dressed fairly casually. This time, for Erin, he was going all in. He nodded at his reflection, satisfied, walked out the door, and without hesitation chose a Dodge Challenger.
Following the address Erin had given him, he drove to a beauty salon downtown.
—For the sake of our colleague, I'll only wait ten minutes —he muttered, leaning against the hood as he sent a text.
He pocketed his phone and lit a cigarette. Less than two minutes later, the glass door opened. Their eyes met, both filled with surprise.
Erin wore her hair loose, falling naturally over her shoulders. She had on a simple black dress, fitted at the waist, with a clean drape that highlighted her figure without excess. Her makeup was subtle but flawless, accentuating her features without softening their strength. Her earrings caught the light with every movement, and her fair skin was revealed in an elegant, measured way.
She wasn't the hard-eyed detective with the intimidating presence who commanded respect in every interrogation. That night, Erin radiated a different kind of confidence: a calm, elegant femininity, fully aware of its own allure.
The dress hugged her figure with subtle elegance, her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders, and her perfume lingered in the air like a silent promise.
She looked him up and down, a slow, provocative smile forming on her lips.
—So… —she said, tilting her head slightly— tell me… was my money well spent? —she asked in a teasing voice.
Ethan blinked for a second, caught off guard.
—Wow… of course it was… —he swallowed— you look absolutely stunning, Lind—
Before he could finish, Erin took a step closer and shamelessly let her gaze travel over him, pausing for a moment on his face, his chest, his hands.
Noticing the attention, Ethan straightened confidently and adjusted his jacket slightly.
—Well? —he said with a crooked smile— Isn't your fiancé handsome tonight?
Erin pretended to study him seriously. She tapped a finger against her chin, narrowing her eyes.
—Wow… —she repeated dramatically— If I didn't know we make the same salary as cops, I'd think you were a millionaire who just plays detective for fun.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye.
—Tell me… how much did you pay for that watch… rented?
Ethan frowned, offended, and clenched his fist slightly.
—It was a gift from a girl… what, are you jealous?
—Tch… show-off —she shot back.
She turned gracefully and walked toward the passenger seat, deliberately swaying her hips.
Before getting in, she stopped and looked back at him over her shoulder.
—By the way, you look really good… —she admitted—. Now, if you behave tonight… you might get lucky and see some action.
He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.
—You're cruel, you know that?
—Come on, Casanova, we're going to be late… —she replied, winking at him.
Ethan smiled, opened the driver's door, and got into the car. It was almost time. Following Erin's directions, he pressed the accelerator and headed toward the agreed hotel.
They arrived quickly.
Just as they finished parking, a black limousine pulled up to the hotel entrance. The driver opened the door and, one by one, seven or eight women stepped out in flashy dresses.
They moved with exaggerated ease, exchanging cheek kisses and fake smiles among themselves and with the suited men waiting for them. It was like watching a bad high school reunion movie—people trying to relive past glory days. It was pathetic.
The whole thing felt like a cheap spectacle. Even from inside the car, it was uncomfortable to watch.
Ethan glanced at Erin, but he didn't say anything. He didn't need to. The way she tensed her shoulders and pressed her lips together told him everything.
After a few seconds of silence, Ethan sighed and forced a casual expression, as if none of it bothered him.
—We should probably get out… —he murmured.
He grabbed the keys, opened the door, and leaned forward, ready to step out.
—Wait! —Erin exclaimed, grabbing his hand before he could move.
Her fingers closed firmly around his.
—Let's go —she said bluntly.
Ethan blinked, surprised.
—…Are you sure?
Erin nodded immediately.
—Completely —she replied, shaking her head softly with an ironic smile.
With a distracted gesture, she removed one of her earrings and placed it on the dashboard.
—I don't know what I was thinking coming here —she admitted—. We were never really friends… I don't even know why I wanted to show up.
She sighed and leaned back against the seat.
—I guess I wanted to prove that I'm doing well. That I'm on their level… —she paused briefly—. But now I realize none of this makes any sense.
She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling in frustration.
—I'm a damn good detective. I catch the bad guys, I do my job well, and on top of that… —she glanced at him with a half-smile— I have a handsome boyfriend.
She shook her head, amused with herself.
—I have nothing to prove to those harpies.
Ethan watched her in silence for a moment.
Then he raised an eyebrow, a half-smile forming.
He leaned slightly toward her.
—This is the Erin Lindsay I know.
—Thanks…
Erin's lips curved, showing her white teeth.
—And you're right. Yes, I have a very handsome and charming boyfriend —she said, adjusting his jacket—. Intelligent, brave, and of course… humble.
She let out a soft laugh.
—Oh, yes. Especially humble.
—Hey, someone has to acknowledge my greatness —he replied, winking—. If I don't do it, who will?
Erin shook her head, still smiling, and rested her forehead briefly against Ethan's shoulder.
—Anyway… I'm starving —she said quietly—. Why don't we go eat somewhere? I spent the whole afternoon at the salon and didn't get to eat anything.
Ethan raised an amused eyebrow.
—Same here. I haven't eaten a thing.
Before she could say anything else, Ethan stepped on the gas. The Dodge Challenger roared and pulled away, leaving the limousine and the group of women behind.
—Alright! —Erin exclaimed, grabbing the seat.
Ethan turned the wheel and glanced at her.
—I think you owe me dinner —he added, mock-serious.
—Really? —she smiled—. Then it'll be a good one… how about Burger King?
Erin burst out laughing.
—What?
Ethan looked at her as if she had just committed sacrilege.
—This suit costs over ten thousand dollars —he said, gesturing to himself—. Do you really want me eating a greasy burger dressed like this?
Erin watched him for a second… then smiled.
—Alright, alright… I was just kidding.
Then she looked at him more seriously, her expression sincere.
—So… what do you feel like eating? My treat tonight.
Ethan turned slightly toward her, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face.
—I've been waiting for you to say that since we took off.
A few minutes later, he slowed down and pulled over. Along the way, he had noticed an Italian restaurant. The façade glowed with warm lights, elegant tables were visible through the windows, and impeccably dressed waiters moved inside… and outside, a long line of customers waited.
Everything pointed to the same conclusion: it was expensive. And the menu probably didn't list prices.
Erin watched it silently from her seat.
—Ethan… —she murmured at last— I only make a few thousand dollars a month… couldn't we go somewhere a little less… expensive?
Her eyes scanned the entrance with some uncertainty.
He shook his head without hesitation.
—No. Not a chance.
He parked, got out, and walked around to her side. He opened the door with an exaggerated bow and a charming smile.
She looked at him, hesitant.
—This is going to cost you… you know that, right?
—I'm counting on it.
Erin sighed, resigned, and finally stepped out of the car.
Inside the restaurant, twenty or thirty people waited near the reception desk. The murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses filled the air.
A host approached them with a professional smile.
—Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?
Ethan and Erin exchanged a quick glance.
—Yes —he replied confidently.
Erin rolled her eyes. They didn't have a reservation. It had been a spontaneous decision.
The host looked down at the list.
—Very well —he said—. Under what name?
—Ethan Morgan.
Ethan rested his hand on the counter. The cuff of his shirt slid back just enough to reveal his watch.
An Audemars Piguet. The host noticed immediately. Then he looked at them more carefully: well-dressed, attractive, confident. They looked like they belonged there.
Still, he checked the list.
—I'm sorry, sir —he said with a polite smile—. I don't see your reservation.
—Could you check again? —Ethan asked calmly.
As he spoke, he discreetly slid a couple of bills onto the folder.
The host hesitated for a second.
Then he understood. He smiled.
—Ah… here it is. I'm sorry, Mr. Morgan. Miss, please follow me.
He led them to a table by a large window overlooking the street and seated them carefully.
—Enjoy your evening.
When he walked away, Erin grabbed Ethan's arm and whispered:
—Did you really have to bribe him just to have dinner?
Ethan smiled.
—Of course it was worth it. You're worth every bit of it, Lind. Never forget that.
For Ethan, spending money was simply a way to secure a comfortable life. He had done too many dirty jobs to worry about every single bill now. Besides, the casino's monthly profits guaranteed him a steady flow of income.
He could afford almost anything he wanted.
Ever since he woke up in that world, he had made one clear decision: to live by his own rules. That world had too much to offer… and he had no intention of settling for scraps.
He would take what he wanted, when he wanted. Problems that could be solved with money were not really problems.
The restaurant's atmosphere was flawless.
Warm lights, soft music, perfectly arranged tables, and an elegant murmur that filled the space without being overwhelming. It wasn't hard to see why so many people were willing to wait to get in.
Once seated, Erin let out a sigh.
She had fallen into the trap.
And now she intended to enjoy it.
She picked up the menu decisively.
—Alright… —she murmured— since we're here, I'm not holding back.
Ethan watched her with an amused smile.
She shot him a look… and started ordering.
—For starters, I want bruschetta with tomato and basil… and the beef carpaccio too.
She flipped the page.
—Then the fresh seafood pasta… and the truffle risotto.
She looked up.
—And then we'll see about dessert.
—Is that all? —Ethan joked.
—Stop teasing me. I didn't spend three hours at the salon for nothing.
When it was Ethan's turn, he closed the menu calmly.
—For me, the red wine steak, medium… and the homemade lasagna.
The waiter nodded, taking notes.
—Anything to drink?
Ethan glanced at the wine list.
—Bring us a bottle of Barolo from Piedmont, 2016 reserve.
The waiter blinked for a second.
—Excellent choice, sir.
—And… —Ethan added, leaning in slightly— afterward, I'd like us to have a bit of privacy.
The man smiled, understanding immediately.
—Of course.
Minutes later, he returned with the bottle.
He uncorked it skillfully and poured Erin's glass first.
—A bold wine with notes of black cherry and oak —he explained—. It pairs perfectly with seafood and red meat.
She took a small sip.
—Oh my God… —she sighed after the first taste, watching as the wine tinted the glass a deep garnet—. It's amazing. I had no idea you had such refined taste.
Ethan met her gaze over the rim of his own glass, allowing himself a small, satisfied smile.
—To be honest, I just saw it in a documentary and memorized the name —he confessed quietly—. I wanted to impress you.
She set her glass down without breaking eye contact and smiled back.
—Well… you did.
As he finished serving, one of the nearby lamps quietly dimmed.
Soon after, the waiter returned and placed several candles on their table.
Soft light flickered between them, wrapping them in an intimate atmosphere.
Erin looked at him, surprised.
—How did you do that?
—A man has his tricks… —he replied calmly.
She shook her head, smiling.
—If I didn't know you from work, I'd think you were someone else. You're usually more reckless and cold-blooded. I never thought you could be this sophisticated.
Ethan lifted his glass and slowly swirled the wine.
—Only when it's worth it.
The candles reflected reddish sparks in the crystal.
And for the first time all night, Erin felt they weren't just having dinner… After everything that had happened that day, it was a relief to leave it all behind and enjoy a peaceful evening.
—I know we had that fake candlelight dinner in Hawaii, but I think one in Chicago isn't bad either, don't you?
—Mmm…
Erin looked delighted as she raised her glass, watching the wine catch the candlelight.
—It was definitely worth coming —she murmured before taking another sip.
Italian cuisine had lost none of its charm. Without losing its essence, the dishes were now lighter, more balanced, meant to be enjoyed without rush.
Ethan ate quietly, satisfied as he watched Erin enjoy every part of the experience.
Seeing her happy made everything worth it.
When dessert finally arrived—a handmade tiramisu with red berries and dark chocolate sauce—Erin set her fork aside and looked at him seriously.
—So… how did you and Hank meet?
—Well, that was a while ago —he explained, leaning back in his chair—. It was during a joint operation with the FBI. In my hometown, Banshee, there was a series of murders, and they took over the investigation. An agent who was a mutual friend of Frank's and mine introduced us. When the case was solved, Hank thought my skills would be useful for the Intelligence Unit.
—That's boring… —she said with a mischievous smile—. There's a bet at the office, you know. Most people think you're Hank's long-lost son. You're very similar.
—No, nothing that interesting —he laughed softly, setting his glass down—. So who won the bet?
—Antonio. He said you were recruited from another agency.
—And how did you two meet? —Ethan asked with genuine curiosity—. Is there a story behind it?
Erin knew that was the starting point, the origin of everything she was now. She took a long sip of wine, gathering courage.
—I was actually one of Hank's informants when I was a teenager. You could say I came from a gang of thieves. To survive, we did everything: stealing, dealing drugs, anything to eat —she began, letting the silence settle.
—When I was sixteen, he and his wife adopted me —she confessed, holding his gaze—. They took me off the streets.
Ethan knew parts of her story, but the adoption was new. Now he understood her loyalty to Hank better.
Her eyes shone with memories—both joy and sadness.
—Later, Hank used his contacts to get me into a private school.
Erin smiled and slowly set her cup down.
—He wanted me to have a normal life.
She paused.
—So I made up some lies to fit in. No one there knew about my past. My father was a high-ranking executive, my mother an artist; they were almost never in the country. And it worked —she continued—. I blended in fast: parties, shopping, fake friendships…
The candlelight reflected in her eyes, and her voice softened.
—But lies always come out eventually. The rumors started: that my mom was an addict, that my dad was in prison… mockery, gossip, rejection… it all came at once.
Ethan shrugged and took a spoonful of tiramisu.
—Then Hank talked to the principal. I don't know what kind of deal he made to let me stay. The condition was simple: if I showed violent tendencies even once, I'd be expelled. Even for a single punch.
—I knew it… —Ethan chuckled softly—. So how many people did you beat up?
Erin smiled but didn't answer.
—For Hank, for Camille, and for myself, I endured it. But all of that… it still bothered me. I just wanted to prove that even coming from that background, I could build a good life on my own.
She spun her glass between her fingers.
—Until today, when I realized something: none of that matters anymore. I don't need to prove anything.
Ethan raised his glass and gently clinked it against hers.
—To hell with them… I'm glad you've moved on.
—Thank you.
Erin felt something heavy lift from her chest. Talking about it was proof that her past no longer ruled her.
They were almost done eating; it was time to leave.
Ethan picked up a clean napkin and wiped his mouth.
—So, where do you want to go now?
—Molly's… —Erin glanced at her watch—. It's still early. Rollins and Odafin came all the way from New York to help; it's worth having a few drinks with them.
Ethan smiled and shook his head.
—Why do I feel like you just want to drink more now?
—Of course! Today we're celebrating—we closed an important case.
Erin didn't beat around the bush and finished the last sip of her drink.
Snap!
Ethan snapped his fingers.
His plans had been interrupted, but now he had plenty of free time, so having a few drinks with his colleagues didn't sound like a bad idea.
—I'll pay. —Erin quickly opened her purse.
—No need, Lind. I'd never let a woman as beautiful as you pay for dinner. If my father were alive, he'd smack me for it. —Ethan pulled out his credit card and handed it to the waiter—. You told me something very personal, so I'll tell you something too.
After the waiter walked away, he winked at Erin.
—The truth is… I'm a millionaire.
—What…?
Erin stared at him, stunned, blurting it out without worrying about appearances. Several diners at nearby tables shot her disapproving looks, and she quickly lowered her voice.
—Are you serious?
—Of course. Why would I lie about something like that?
Ethan put on his coat and stood up, smiling as he took the credit card and offered his hand to Erin.
—You're a liar!
Erin took his hand and stood, concluding quickly:
—I've never seen a millionaire become a cop and drive a beat-up Dodge all day long.
—Haha! Hey, don't talk like that about Lucille. Besides, she's fully restored.
—So I don't have to pay you back for everything I bought with your credit card?
—No, not if you don't want to.
Lindsay had thought Ethan had lent her his card so she could buy the dress and jewelry, planning to pay him back the next day… or at least that's what she had assumed.
—Are you sure? —she asked, surprised. The dress, earrings, and necklace hadn't been cheap. Not the most expensive things, but still worth nearly three months of her salary.
—Lind, I never intended for you to return anything. Besides, if I end up breaking everything tonight, you couldn't pay it back even if you wanted to.
—Idiot… thank you —she said shyly.
Ignoring the looks from everyone in the restaurant, Ethan laughed and walked out.
At Molly's bar, as soon as he parked, he spotted Rollins and Odafin.
They were getting out of a taxi. Rollins looked elegant; she had good taste in fashion, and her olive-green jacket suited her well.
—Hey.
Ethan stepped out of the car and greeted them.
—Detectives.
—Hey…
Rollins was clearly taken aback by Ethan's transformation, but she recovered quickly.
—Detective Morgan.
Erin got out of the car as well, and the group exchanged greetings.
—I thought something had happened to you —Rollins said curiously.
Odafin extended his hand and bumped fists with Ethan.
—You look great, man. I almost didn't recognize you.
—Thanks.
—There was a last-minute change. Did you already eat?
—Mm… —Rollins nodded—. Olinsky took us to try some local specialties. Chicago has its charm.
—Yeah, it has some great places.
The group stopped exchanging pleasantries and pushed open the wooden door.
—Hey, guys.
Ruzek was sitting at the bar, greeting them.
As soon as they approached, Ruzek started shouting:
—What's with you two? If you were going to dress up, why didn't you tell us?
There was even a hint of amusement in his voice.
Most people in the bar were dressed casually, unlike them, so they stood out immediately.
—Shut up!
Erin punched him hard, visibly annoyed.
—Hey!
Ruzek extended his fist toward Ethan, bumping knuckles, and they sat down at a reserved table.
—Hey, Herrmann! Seven Macallans on the rocks, please!
Ethan raised a hand in greeting toward the firefighter behind the bar, who, as always, seemed happy to see him.
—Well, if it isn't Detective Morgan! —Herrmann replied with a grin as he grabbed the bottles—. Otis is looking for a rematch at darts.
—Tell him I'll be waiting whenever he wants —Ethan replied, taking off his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair.
Around him, the others had already taken their seats: Odafin, Amanda, Ruzek, Erin, and Antonio.
—Detectives, the first round is on me —Herrmann announced, raising an eyebrow knowingly.
—Now that's what I like to hear —Ethan said, leaning back in his chair.
Odafin pointed at Ethan with a teasing smile.
—Don't get used to it. He only does that when he knows Ethan's paying for the next rounds.
Laughter erupted around the table just as Herrmann arrived with the tray: seven low glasses, the golden whisky gleaming under the bar's dim lights.
The whisky was poured quickly, and they grabbed their glasses one by one—but one was left over. Ethan turned around.
—Burgess!
He looked up and called across the bar.
He had seen Burgess and several patrol officers drinking beer since he walked in. She was in a good mood, laughing loudly.
Burgess noticed the call and looked up with a smile.
—Come here!
Ethan beckoned her over, pointing to the empty seat beside him.
The room was warm, and Burgess—wearing only a short-sleeved white T-shirt, her chest outlined beneath the fabric—walked over.
—Hi!
She greeted everyone cheerfully.
They had all met earlier that day, and the two New York detectives nodded when they saw her.
—Here you go.
Under Burgess's inquisitive gaze, Ethan picked up the last glass of Macallan and set it in front of her.
—You did a great job today. Have a drink with us.
—Thanks.
Burgess took the glass enthusiastically. As she spoke, she glanced toward Atwater in the distance, arching an eyebrow smugly.
Atwater, annoyed, grabbed his beer and took a long gulp.
—This one's for New York!
Ethan raised his glass.
—To teamwork!
—To teamwork!
Everyone cheered, lifting their glasses.
Rollins and Odafin took a sip and were about to set their glasses down when a series of thuds sounded beside them.
The Intelligence Unit members and Burgess slammed their glasses—now holding only ice—onto the bar.
—Damn.
—Ugh!
Ruzek, Burgess, and Erin, with lower alcohol tolerance, exhaled heavily, their breath thick with whisky.
—Is this Chicago passion? —Rollins asked, downing her whisky in one go, copying them.
Odafin didn't lag behind and did the same.
—No.
Ruzek grabbed a handful of peanuts and tossed them into his mouth.
—Detective Morgan always buys the first round when we close a case, and we drink it in one shot. I guess it's become a tradition.
Ethan twirled his fingers, and seven more glasses of Macallan appeared.
—Do you always drink this crazy? —Rollins asked, surprised.
The glasses weren't small; even half full, they held at least fifty milliliters.
—No, just the first drink —Ruzek explained patiently—. No one would make it to work the next day otherwise.
—This one's on me too —Ethan said, sliding the glass toward his partner.
Ruzek blinked, surprised.
—Seriously?
—Seriously —Ethan replied without looking at him—. For your performance today. You learned from your mistakes, didn't rush in blindly, analyzed the situation, and acted accordingly. You did very well.
Ruzek smiled, clearly proud, as Antonio patted him on the back.
—Well done, rookie.
Herrmann set the glasses down in front of them. The sound of glass touching wood marked the moment.
Ruzek picked up his, lifted it slightly, then looked at Ethan.
—Hey, Ruzek, why don't you tell us the story? —Atwater shouted from the other side.
Clearly thrilled, he moved closer to the table. Having finally gotten something worth bragging about, Ruzek didn't miss the chance.
From his encounter with Vance, the moment of mutual recognition, the chase through stalls and tourists, to buying enough time for the team to arrive and rescue the hostage, he recounted the entire sequence enthusiastically.
After all, he had just come out of the academy, and that experience was perfect bragging material. Burgess, who had spent time as a patrol officer, listened with a mix of attention and barely concealed envy.
—Lucky damn rookie… —she muttered, though she was smiling.
Ethan watched the scene in silence, a faint smile on his face.
He downed his glass of whisky in one gulp.
Set it on the bar and turned his head toward Erin.
—You've been on more missions with me —he said—. What do you think about the situation? If you'd been in his place… what would you have done?
Erin took a second before answering, looking first at Ruzek and then at Ethan.
—Probably the same thing —she admitted—. And you?
—I wouldn't have even given him time to grab his knife.
Laughter filled the space again, blending with the bar's music and constant murmur.
For that night, work stayed outside.