We didn’t get back to the station right away.  I took him home first, tossed him in the shower, tossed his jeans in the wash, and tossed some clean clothes at him when he came out.

He was thoughtful, not saying much, just watching me make myself busy cleaning us both up.

I wanted to tell him, “Two out of three isn’t bad,” but I couldn’t.  We saved Eddie, we saved the girl…

But we promised Monty we’d protect him, and we didn’t.

Ah, hell.  If I’m feeling bad, he’s got to be feeling worse.  Even if he hides it better.

I know I should have told him the truth about dinner.  But I didn’t want him sitting alone all night, thinking about the one we couldn’t save.  After a screwed-up day like this you want to be with your girl, and, well, he hasn’t got one right now.

Predictably, he bitches about the food.  I don’t mind.

I’m trying to sell him on the benefits of a healthy diet.  Hitting him where it counts; food and sex.

Then he says, “Just stay where I can keep an eye on you.”

Funny.

I thought it was the other way around.