(no subject)
Beckett needs to process. It's been a long week. Nothing she can't handle, but being a homicide detective doesn't typically lend itself to a quiet holiday.
When the door shows up for the first time in - well, a long time, she draws her scarf a little tighter around herself and ducks through the bar, skipping out to exit through the door that leads to the outdoors. It's not too late yet, the setting sun casting a pinkish glow over fresh snow and sleeping trees.
She shoves her hands in her pockets and savors the sound of snow crunching under her boots. After a few moments, she stops, looking up and watching the vapor of her breath in the air.
Night walks help with the processing.
When the door shows up for the first time in - well, a long time, she draws her scarf a little tighter around herself and ducks through the bar, skipping out to exit through the door that leads to the outdoors. It's not too late yet, the setting sun casting a pinkish glow over fresh snow and sleeping trees.
She shoves her hands in her pockets and savors the sound of snow crunching under her boots. After a few moments, she stops, looking up and watching the vapor of her breath in the air.
Night walks help with the processing.