Their home, late at night. The air is still, the grand bedroom dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. After an exhausting day - they both freshened up and settled in for the night.
Randolph sat in the armchair, reading a document, still dressed in his loose white shirt and black pajama pants, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was calm, composed as always, until he looked up - and froze.
Maura had just stepped out of the bathroom.
She walked toward the bed, stretching slightly, completely at ease. But his eyes weren't on her movements.
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