#beckett.

"There's an earther saying that you get more bees with honey," Beck says as he greets Odessa with a wry smile, watching as a disgruntled PO walks out the door, seemingly turned away. "But they might not have had that on Red Horizon. Was he bothering you?" He asks, glancing over his shoulder at the retreating figure before returning his gaze to Odessa. It's strange how their paths have crossed once more and while Beck isn't someone to read into things, he can't help but be grateful they had. He's thought of her since they parted ways after her arrival on The Station, had hoped she was doing alright, especially when he heard she was no longer working at the bar.

"Still nothing?" Beckett asks as he approaches the cliffside perch beside Odessa. He's secured the area for the second time in two hours, and moves back to the space beside her. It could be selfish to want her with him on these scouting missions, but there's no one he'd prefer to have beside him. If only because he's confident no one can protect her the way he can, even if she's a formidable force on her own. Beck still feels better when it's the two of them. It's the thought that crosses his mind when he settles back on his stomach next to her, brushing a kiss to her temple as they lay low to avoid detection. "I didn't see anything either, but they'll be approaching soon." He guesses before he shuts his eyes and splays his hands on the ground to check.

It's a subtle art, one that requires patience and focus, as though chasing a thread before he catches it. Only then can he feel the rumblings coursing up through the earth, sinking into his palm from miles away. Like his very hand is an extension of the cool, damp ground beneath it. Once he feels the tell-tale tremors, blue eyes flash openand he grabs his binoculars. "They're definitely getting close." He asserts, peering at the tree line far below their perch. The only shapes he makes out are those of animals scurrying away, rather than people. "Fifteen minutes. Maybe less." Beck conjectures, based on his interpretation of the shaking ground.

It's been two weeks since Odessa and Lilja found their way to St. Eligius — three since Leonardo. And Beck is no closer to an answer than he is to what questions he should even be asking. It's a tangled web of thoughts right now, each running through his mind at rapid speed. He's used to research under pressure but this feels different. Three lives hanging in the balance. Three lives he's supposed to help set right.

There's a brief smile on his face as he accepts coffee from Inga at the cafeteria and makes his way to his office where he's scheduled a meeting with all three of them. Taking steady sips, the bitter taste fuels him and gives him a bit of comfort. Even if everything feels different – unexpected – at least some things are the same.

He gets to his desk with an hour to spare before the meeting and he spends it reviewing files. They're his constant companion of late. Taken home, taken to cafes, even taken to some pubs late at night. His mind whirls with possibilities and potential links, but none of them fit. Not yet. There are several pieces of the puzzle missing. He's not even sure what image he should be trying to make.

Beck thinks he still has an hour, but the sound of someone arguing with the secretary pulls his attention. He checks the time.Still forty-five minutes. It doesn't matter. A moment later his door is bursting open and Odessa strolls through. He hastily swallows a sip of coffee, coughs at the burn, and stands. "Odessa," he's struck, not for the first time, with how nice her name sounds. Like a song. "Sorry – Leah had all of you down for two." He moves to check his watch again, just to make sure he's not mistaken but lowers his wrist when he sees her quirked brow and catches sight of the floor secretary peering through the door. "It's fine, Leah," Beck says, giving her a small smile and moving around the desk.

"But, why don't you take a seat, Odessa." Beck gestures at one of the red-upholstered armchairs opposite him as he leans against the edge of his desk. "We can get started in the meantime." Might as well.