This has been hand-written for quite some time; but after I typed it up today,
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earlgreytea68 was wonderful enough to do the quick beta for me (in spite of being at her parent's house for the weekend. Thanks, EGT!!)This would be the evening of chapter 31, before Rose's talk with Mickey.
Peter had muttered something about having other plans after the daily meeting, and so it had been Penny, Jake, James, and Mickey who’d gone to the pub for a quick pint. The four had made it a practice not to talk about work when going out for a drink—but had used the opportunity on more than one occasion to compare theories and observations about Peter and Rose. Where their discussions the previous week had been full of joy for their respective bosses, the Monday happy hour was anything but.
Penington started the discussion. “What did I miss?”
Mickey spoke up. “Your boss was a right git.”
Penington looked surprised at the vehement statement, and Jake chimed in. “Rose told him some stuff, and he, ah, didn’t react well.”
“That’s an understatement,” James muttered as he took a sip from his glass.
Penington looked confused. “But...I thought...” He stopped and considered his words. “The Inspector’s stopped snacking.”
“Good,” Mickey spat out.
“No, you don’t get it. He never skips a snack. Never. In the year I’ve worked with him, he’s always accepted one, always munched his way though. Food—it’s how he thinks. He’s upset if he’s not snacking. And he’s been nice to me these past two days. Not just polite or tolerant. Nice.”
Mickey looked unimpressed.
“You think he’s...what, feeling hurt?” James ventured.
“No. Well, maybe. Buy I think he’s really feeling guilty.”
Mickey looked at the DC like he was daft. Jake jumped in. “I’d buy that. Look at how he acted out at the warehouse.”
“He hurt Rose, Jake.”
“And I think he knows that, Mickey.”
“What does Rose think of all of this?” Penington asked.
“She ran to London—what do you think?” Mickey answered.
James hesitated, then spoke. “But she’s coming back up.”
“When? She keeps saying she will, but—“
James cut Mickey off. “Tonight.”
“Why didn’t she tell us?” By which Mickey clearly meant, Why didn’t she tell me?
“I don’t know, Mickey. She just said she’d taken care of what she needed to, that she’d be headed back for the duration. She was on the road when I talked with her.” James took a sip of his beer, as if that was the end of the story.
“That’s all she said?” asked Mickey.
“Did she mention the DI?” Penington asked, simultaneously.
“She…” James hesitated, then said, “She’s coming back. Read into it what you will.”
The group fell silent, each man sipping his beer contemplatively. The usual evening crowd milled around them, the noise washing over the group.
Penington finally spoke. “Well, whatever the case, I can tell you the DI is not a happy man. Nowhere near like he was Friday morning.” He drained his glass. “Gotta run—have a date of my own.” He threw a note on the bar, and left.
Jake took a swig of his beer, swallowed before breaking the relative silence. “Penny’s got a point, you know. The DI is beating himself up over what happened. You saw his reaction when we said Rose had gone.”
“He hurt Rose. He rejected her.”
Jake sighed at Mickey’s obstinacy. “Mickey, we don’t know what was said—“
“Rose told me about it. He hurt her. That’s enough for me.”
“Assuming we ever get the full story, I’d be curious to hear his take on things,” James said mildly. “It can’t be easy, to hear something like that. And if it was said in the wrong way...” James trailed off as Mickey glared at him, and he suppressed the urge to remind Mickey of how he’d met Jake. “And you don’t really know what Rose thinks, not that she’s had time to think it over.”
“What, you think her heart’s not magically broken anymore?” drawled Mickey.
"Well, I think it’s none of our business," said James after a moment. "Rose’ll meet us at the station tomorrow.”
Jake drained his glass. “I think I’ll head off for supper. Anyone interested?” There were murmurs of assent as the other two men finished their beer. Having settled the tab, they filed out of the pub, by silent agreement not discussing Rose or Peter any further.