isabella [h.s.]

thirty

**Oh, why'd you have to be so cute?
it's impossible to ignore you,
why must you make me laugh so much?
it's bad enough we get along so well**

HARRY

"You look awful."

I narrow my eyes at the Chief who's already seated at the table in the conference room, not particularly happy about his observation, even though it's correct. The comment probably wouldn't bother me at all if it wasn't for the fact that this is really all I've heard today, faces frowning at me sympathetically as they notice the physical toll my work has taken on me. The past week has been nothing short of hectic, and the combination of exhaustion, stress, and probably the colder weather too, led me to wake up this morning with a blocked nose, a sore throat, a cough that makes me sound like I smoke twenty packs a day, and redness around my eyes which makes me look like I've been up all night getting high. If only.

Unfortunately for me, I'm not one of those people who can pull off the ill look, the people who somehow look cute with their red noses and sleepy eyes, so I'm well aware of how awful I look. I grimaced at my own reflection in the mirror this morning, complaining to myself about the dark circles under my eyes, and when Isabella sloped past me to head to the bathroom, she sleepily suggested covering them up with concealer, but then she went back to bed before I could potentially take her up on that offer.

From the guy at the coffee shop this morning to Russell now, my whole day has consisted of people telling me how sick I look, how I should go home and rest. None of them seem to understand that I'd love to just go home and sleep until this cold passes, but I happen to also have this inconvenient thing called a job, and mine comes with the extra burden of not being able to rest until I've made a significant amount of progress.

So that's why I'm here now, freshly drugged up on painkillers and cough medicine, dragging myself into the conference room for a meeting I scheduled earlier this week (when I wasn't dying) with Russell to discuss the developments in my cases. Niall is supposed to be here too, but fuck knows where he is or when he's going to show up, so I decide to get started without him.

"So," I begin, clearing my throat quickly in an attempt to rid myself of the gruffness my sore throat brings. "There are a few updates with the cases, specifically with the Gerbner homicide, which of course will have a knock-on effect to the others." Russell just nods slowly in acknowledgement, so I continue. "Due to recent developments, we're now running with the potential theory that Gerbner knew the person who killed her, which may suggest the assailant was known to the other victims too. We've been trying to establish links and connections between the different women, including the victim found near the popular strip club Ecstasy just over a week ago."

As if on cue, Niall suddenly strolls into the room just as I'm mentioning the strip club, his hair a mess from the wind and a half-eaten bagel clutched in his hands. "Sorry I'm late," he says in between mouthfuls. "Who knew the deli got so busy this time of day?"