The bar was quiet. The guys had gone home - family, sleep, pressing Game of Thrones marathon - so it was just Rosa and Amy, slumped over the bar while the TV on the opposite wall played a Central American soccer game.
"Maybe I should get going too," said Amy. "Early shift tomorrow."
Rosa shrugged. She'd had a shitty day - not enough leads, not enough collars - and she was going to drink. And be angry. She was good at that.
Rosa held up two fingers, and the bartender dropped two shots in front of them. They were green. Rosa was not going to ask what was in them. She picked one up and tipped back her head to drink.
Out of the corner of her eye, Rosa could see Amy watching her, staring at her throat. Rosa dropped the shot glass back on the table, licked her lips. Amy watched that too.
"Hey," said Rosa. "Want to make out?"
"What?" Amy laughed, nervously. "I don't- I mean, you're a colleague, and I don't want to make the workplace awkward, and, uh, Jake said you bite the heads off your lovers and I don't want to die."
Rosa raised an eyebrow. Amy sipped her shot.
"This tastes like jolly ranchers," said Amy. "Why did you ask if I wanted to make out?"
"You're here," said Rosa, and shrugged. Amy's face fell, and Rosa realized she had said exactly the wrong thing.
"And," said Rosa, thinking fast, "and you're hot, and smart, and funny and I think you're into me. And I've had a really bad day and I want to kiss you. But not if you think it's a bad idea."
"It's a bad idea." Amy smiled. "But let's do it anyway."
Rosa took the shot away from Amy, tossed it back, and then pulled Amy in with two hands around the back of her head.
Amy was right. The shots did taste like jolly ranchers.