John Reese (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
primary_asset) wrote2018-07-07 11:28 am
primary_asset) wrote2018-07-07 11:28 am
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In the end, they'd settled on Karen's apartment rather than John's.
He'd pointed out that she has a better view, being two floors higher, and he'd liked how the light had come into the living room better on her side of the building. They're not things one might expect of John Reese -- or even John Riley -- but when it had come to deciding which apartment to live in, he'd done his best to set aside his CIA training or anything that told him one would be better than the other based on tactical advantages.
That's not what he wants his life with Karen to be about.
They're still spies, of course, in their way. They still work together on the sorts of cases the police department can't or won't take. He trusts her with his life on that end and he's glad to have her, to know they have that kind of transparency between them. But he still wants this to be their home together. Something separate from the jobs they both do.
So he's moving boxes out of his place, to the elevator, and then into hers. It's not a difficult move, he doesn't have many belongings and they don't need his furniture, but he's had to decline help from two neighbours now, telling them he's just about done, when in reality he just doesn't want them touching his boxes of weapons. Or spy equipment.
All the boxes are labelled books. Only one of them contains books of any kind.
He'd pointed out that she has a better view, being two floors higher, and he'd liked how the light had come into the living room better on her side of the building. They're not things one might expect of John Reese -- or even John Riley -- but when it had come to deciding which apartment to live in, he'd done his best to set aside his CIA training or anything that told him one would be better than the other based on tactical advantages.
That's not what he wants his life with Karen to be about.
They're still spies, of course, in their way. They still work together on the sorts of cases the police department can't or won't take. He trusts her with his life on that end and he's glad to have her, to know they have that kind of transparency between them. But he still wants this to be their home together. Something separate from the jobs they both do.
So he's moving boxes out of his place, to the elevator, and then into hers. It's not a difficult move, he doesn't have many belongings and they don't need his furniture, but he's had to decline help from two neighbours now, telling them he's just about done, when in reality he just doesn't want them touching his boxes of weapons. Or spy equipment.
All the boxes are labelled books. Only one of them contains books of any kind.