A/N: Just a drabble, written on spec.
"Don't look at my partner! He has my back, not yours."

Logan looked up from the drawer he had been going through and stared at his new partner as she verbally bitch-slapped the woman who, he had a sneaking suspicion, had been eyeing his ass. Personally, he wasn't sure he had too big a problem with that - the woman wasn't hideous, and it never hurt to find out when he attracted feminine attention every now and then. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to even acknowledge that he knew she'd been watching. Some may have considered him a renegade, but he was more professional than that.

Apparently, Detective Nola Falacci wasn't a big fan of on-the-job ogling, no matter who did it. In fact, so far she didn't seem to be much of a fan of anything, including him. She'd made that clear the morning he met her.

Ok, so his new partner didn't like him. He supposed his reputation had preceded him, considering that one of the first things she'd done was flash a wedding ring at him and pointedly mention her kids. Kids, plural. The woman couldn't be more than thirty-two or -three, and she had three kids! He was too much of a gentleman to speculate exactly how she'd had time to make Detective with all that childbearing going on, but privately he had his suspicions.

On the other hand, there she was, across the room, holding forth on how she trusted him to have her back.

All of a sudden, he missed Wheeler. She'd been simpler to fathom. Sure, his first impression had been that she'd looked all of sixteen, and she was a known cohort of a captain he wasn't sure he was a fan of, but she had worked her ass off the entire year she'd spent with him, and by the time he had seen her off to the airport for her sabbatical to Europe, she'd earned his full trust in her abilities.

Did Falacci have the talent to go with that attitude problem of hers? he wondered. Or was she just a big mouth who knew how to move up in the world?