The hallway to the interrogation room was less bustling than the rest of the station—sterile, humming faintly with the buzz of fluorescent lights. Officer Tyler walked half a step ahead of her, his shoulders broad and his black hair tousled, but his tone had softened.
"Just… be careful in there," he said, low enough that only she could hear.
Erisia tilted her head at him, hazel eyes narrowing with that flicker of dry amusement. "He's in cuffs, isn't he? I don't exactly plan on holding his hand and asking about his childhood trauma."
Tyler's mouth quirked—the closest thing to a smile she'd seen from him so far. Still, his gaze lingered on her a second longer, as if gauging whether her bravado was iron or porcelain.
