Not without some pride, Miles pulls the handbrake. It's ten to eight; he hardly ever makes it to work this early. To his surprise, Chandler's car isn't there yet. His boss is usually the earliest at the office. Miles can see Kent's Vespa, though. That is no wonder, seeing as the boy worships the fucking ground their boss walks on and will do just about anything to impress Chandler. Even being here at half past seven in the morning. Miles thinks it's idiotic to get up unnecessarily early for someone, no matter who it is. When he gets older, Kent will learn that there's only so much you will do for love, particularly if it's unrequited.

Only minutes later, Miles places his bag onto his table. No one is at their office yet, which is unexpected but pleasant. He does not enjoy talking at this time of day. It's five to eight; time for a good, strong cuppa. He walks into the kitchen.

A minute later, his boss hurries after him. "Morning", Chandler says curtly.

Miles mumbles a reply. He expects his superior officer to prepare his own mug of tea, but they also have a coffee machine, one of those overpriced, hip, neon coloured ones that have big, flashy marketing campaigns and horrible coffee. Miles thinks it a bloody waste of space since hardly anyone ever uses it. Chandler turns on the machine, lets it fill a thimble of a cup with black liquid and then he adds two cubes of sugar.

That's more sugar than coffee, Miles thinks. It stirs his curiosity just enough to make conversation even though he hasn't had his second cup of tea yet. "Tough night?"

Chandler attempts to stir in the sugar cubes, but there's just not enough coffee in the tiny cup. At first it seems as if he hasn't heard the other officer at all. He only looks up after a few seconds. "Not at all. I went to a classical concert and then to bed soon after. Arias from Händel's Solomon, it was lovely."

Miles can see dark circles under the other man's eyes and wonders if his boss is having sleeping problems or even nightmares. "You only consume coffee flavoured sugar after tough nights."

Chandler's eyes flicker to the thimble in his hand. "Ever the detective, aren't you." The corner of his mouth hints at a smile. "I didn't get quite enough sleep, is all. Don't worry." And off he marches into his office and Miles thinks it looks ridiculous how the spoon actually stands in the tiny cup his boss is carrying. Way too much sugar.

He shrugs and returns to his desk with a sigh at the sight of the files piling on it.