“So, according to his records,” Kate Beckett began, “the vic was a glass blower by trade.”

Across the room, Ryan let out a snorting laugh.  Everyone turned to face him. “Oh, sorry, I - glass blower? I’ve always thought that was . . . funny.”

Kate just rolled her eyes and went back to her briefing.  Ryan, embarrassed, walked over to get a ( Read more... )

“Ryan!” Esposito crashed through the warehouse door, running to his partner.  His partner who was soaking wet, courtesy of a barrel of God Knows What, his partner who had been in a stand off with Mr. Killer for the last 73 minutes and 22 seconds.  (Not that he had been counting.) In. The. Middle. Of. December. In New York!

A sniper had finally ( Read more... )

Coffee

“This coffee sucks.”

Esposito glanced at his companion, feigning shock. “Really?” He glanced down to pick up a stirrer.  “Not everyone has a rich writer to buy them ridiculously expensive java makers.”

“Yeah . . . but this coffee sucks.”  Ryan sulked sensationally, staring longingly down at his cup. “When can we go home?”

( Read more... )