I think you're made of sterner stuff, he'd once told her, and the thought bubbles right back up to the surface of Mike's mind. He still thinks so, maybe even moreso now-- whether or not it's smart, it's not nothing, standing your ground in front of a man who scraped a corpse off your living room floor and daring him to make the first move.
"Nope."
He almost doesn't want to lecture her. Almost. But she's a loose end hanging off a long, long tapestry. Mike, of all people, is well aware of what happens to those loose ends.
"Your," a minute pause, "--husband's got nothing to do with this. Whatever's between you and him is none of my business, and I don't want it to be my business. This conversation is strictly between you and me."
He doesn't spare Goodman's shuttered office a second glance, keeping his gaze calm and leveled on Kim; his tone, for what it's worth, is as sincere as he can get it.
"Five minutes." A jerk of his head back towards the parking lot. "That's all."
She's not sure if she feels the sting of bile on the back of her throat or if it's just in her head. Her lips purse momentarily at the offending word, husband, the word she wanted more than anything and the word that made her happy every single day for six weeks, six perfect weeks. The very work she wants to scuttle somewhere dark and shameful and never think about again because she'd ruined it.
But if it's not about her and her soon-to-be ex-husband, then what is there to talk about? That feels the slightest bit more alarming, like she hadn't thought of some second shoe waiting to drop.
She glances towards the parking lot, to wherever he wants her to go. She tries not to imagine herself hustled into a car, driven god-knows-where, dumped. The bile in her throat is real, but so is her resolve. Things could not possibly get worse.
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"Nope."
He almost doesn't want to lecture her. Almost. But she's a loose end hanging off a long, long tapestry. Mike, of all people, is well aware of what happens to those loose ends.
"Your," a minute pause, "--husband's got nothing to do with this. Whatever's between you and him is none of my business, and I don't want it to be my business. This conversation is strictly between you and me."
He doesn't spare Goodman's shuttered office a second glance, keeping his gaze calm and leveled on Kim; his tone, for what it's worth, is as sincere as he can get it.
"Five minutes." A jerk of his head back towards the parking lot. "That's all."
no subject
But if it's not about her and her soon-to-be ex-husband, then what is there to talk about? That feels the slightest bit more alarming, like she hadn't thought of some second shoe waiting to drop.
She glances towards the parking lot, to wherever he wants her to go. She tries not to imagine herself hustled into a car, driven god-knows-where, dumped. The bile in her throat is real, but so is her resolve. Things could not possibly get worse.
"Five minutes," she agrees.