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"Heeeyyyyyyyyy."

That was a call which had come to be rather well-known around the police department. It was the voice of Leila Townhome, the forensics girl from California. Specifically, it was the voice of a Leila Townhome who was coming around to offer you some soda or a snack. Or to remember your birthday. Or to remind you of someone else's birthday that was coming up, or a community event that needed donations or volunteers. The local reviews on being subject to this side of the woman were mixed, and Leila was currently directing it to Lucy while leaning an arm into a tiny spot on her desk that didn't have anything stacked on it.

"June, right?" This, she asked in spite of obviously having glanced down at the nameplate a couple of times during her approach. "Y'know, we've said hi a few times but I don't think we've really gotten a chance to get to know each other yet. How about you let me buy you lunch?"

"Lunch. Food. Free for you, because I'm buying." Leila was grinning vibrantly. "Trying to bribe you into some quality friendship time. Is it working?"

The narrow time frame made Leila falter, but she was not deterred. "Forty minutes, huh?" she repeated, ponderously scratching the side of her face. "Guess we can't go too out of the way. Sandwiches work? There's a place we can walk to." While she waited for Lucy June to gather her things, she marveled quietly at the speed and efficiency with which she did so.

"You play the piano or anything?" she asked casually as she led the way out of the office. "You'd obviously have the dexterity for it, I mean."

Music major to secretary? A little weird, though this town held far weirder. Leila had a hundred and one list of reasons why she didn't want to continue that thought at work, though. This was going to be a mundane lunch break in a mundane environment. "Nice. You miss doing it much? Music theory, I mean." Out the door, across the street, and just a block away from promised sandwiches.

Leila shrugged, while pointing her companion towards their next turn down the street. "Why not? I'm not here full-time, since I'm also on campus or helping with cases the next town over sometimes. It's a good way to stay caught up with folks at the police department." And learn to remember all the names. She'd only internalized Jeremiah's name as quickly as she had when she started working here because he was a friend of Eve's.

There were a few minutes of awkward silence until they passed through the door into a nearby deli -- which thankfully only had two people ahead of them in line before it was there turn. Leila made a little hand signal to communicate she was covering both of them before ordering something packed with an equal measure of condiments and olives. "Go ahead," she gestured to June, "get anything you like."

"Whatever you're okay with me knowing, I guess?" Leila shrugged and pondered. "Or you can ask me something if you feel the heat's been on you too much already. Or... we could sit here and eat and not say anything at all." She took a long, thoughtful sip of orange soda. "But if you're up for it, um, what led to you working at the PD?"

Surprisingly, the comment made Leila snicker, then chuckle for a good few seconds into the business end of her sandwich. June was in good company with the questionable sense of humor (Leila got hers from her dad, who was orders of magnitude worse), as well as with gross overuse of condiments. It was also just plain good to finally see some personality peek out from under the usual politeness and space-filling small talk. "You got me there," Leila admitted. "Most people get at least one of those, I think. Hopefully it's better than selling Girl Scout cookies door-to-door, though?"

"Probs for the best," Leila said in a gap between bites -- she was a bit of a fast eater. "Those songs get stuck in your head for the rest of your life, and then your parents hound you about 'giving them grandkids' so they have more family to buy cookies from." She rolled her eyes half-jokingly, in a fashion not unlike a teenager, while her fingertips with wads of napkin and moving to wrap up the other half of her sandwich. "And now you've got me talking about myself. Sorry about that."