Sluggishly working till the crack of dawn was nothing new to Ira Lagear. She had spent an inordinate amount of time feeling as if she could drop dead from exhaustion. Every time she closed her eyes, she willed herself back into the waking word. She hated this feeling. She hated being here, filling out this useless paperwork for the Bureau. Ira took a breath through her nose as the comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee filled her lungs. It did little to soothe the dull ache in her head. Deciding that she was in need of a refill, Ira stood up from her desk.

Everything was quiet aside from the occasional shuffling of papers as she made her way to the break room. There were others from a different department who were standing and chatting idly amongst themselves. They all paused when Ira entered the room. Blissfully unaware, she continued walking towards the magical self-replenishing coffee pot, determined to get her refill. As she reached out for it, one of the officers stalked toward her with an unrelenting need to get up close and personal. 

"What happened to you?" 

"Uh, I'm sorry?-" Ira sputtered, quickly, before glancing from the coffee pot to the officer inches away from her face. 

"Your eye. That's one nasty scar you got." The officer clarified, taking Ira's acknowledgement as initiative to keep leaning in closer. 

Gently, Ira's fingers swept across the soft scar tissue as she traced the outline of where her right eye once was. She used to hide it underneath her long bangs, even though it made her look constantly disgruntled. But when she was offered a position in Commander Brian's department, she was forced to cut it off to appear more professional. In hindsight, a mask would have benefited her better than her hair ever could. It was too late now. 

"It's none of your business." She said before shoulder checking the officer to reach for the pot. 

"Lord, ok, whatever." The officer backed off, giving his friends a sideways glance and a shrug. 

"You don't have to act like you've above us just because you have it in with the Commander." Another chimed in. 

Ira was accustomed to being teased, it wasn't uncommon during her years in the academy. She had a facial scar that drew unwanted attention wherever she went. Of course, she expected the teasing and bullying to stop when she first joined the bureau, but apparently she set her expectations too high. 

"I don't owe you guys anything." She said, addressing the one who called her out. 

They all raised an eyebrow at her as she left the room with a fresh cup.

"God, she needs to take that stick out of her ass." 

 A sigh escaped her lips as the faint sound of gossip disappeared with every step she took. Ira craned her neck to look back at the entrance of the break room. Maybe she should apologize for her behavior, after all, blaming her cranky attitude on her sleep deprivation wasn't a stretch. Most people she knew working late nights wouldn't be up for small talk, much like herself. As she strode over to the door, she stopped almost immediately upon hearing the topic of their conversation. 

"She isn't even qualified to be in Commander Brian's department, much less any department here in the bureau at all." A female huffed. 

"Right? I mean, I can't imagine what her resume, if she even had one, looks like." The officer who approached her earlier added. 

"I'm willing to bet she bribed her way in. There's no way someone like her could get in without any proper training." 

She stopped listening after that. They weren't totally wrong in their assumptions, but it wasn't by choice that she was given this job. So, as a result, it's no surprise that she felt disconnected from everyone and everything. As Ira gazed into her coffee cup, she sunk deeper into her thoughts and the empty feeling brewing inside of her. Some days, it's easy to ignore the way everyone treated her. Ira felt her eyes well slightly at the thought and chuckled at the unsolicited reminder that she would be alone no matter what. Suddenly, as if by some miracle, a welcomed face caught notice of her sulking. 

"Ira!" 

Ira, being suddenly ripped from her thoughts, jolted. 

"Jordan, hey." 

Jordan, the magical-medical examiner with dark skin and hair as dim as the night sky, smiled fondly. 

"I know I work with dead bodies but, isn't it a bit unhealthy to be drinking that much coffee?" Jordan said, hooking her arm under Ira's before dragging the two of them to her office. 

"Well, the paperwork doesn't do itself... and I can't 'expresso' how much I need the caffeine." Ira chuckled, looking over her friendly co-worker with a tired expression. 

"Ok, first off, you're so sleep deprived you think that was funny. Which, by the way, it's not." Jordan shook her head as Ira snorted and pulled away to act offended. "Puns are the worst form of comedy."

"Secondly, you look like you could drop dead at any moment, so as a medical professional, I'm forcing you to take a nap." Jordan tugged harder when Ira tried unlinking their arms. 

"Ok, well, for one, there's nothing wrong with puns! And two, Brian is going to be angry." Ira reasoned.

"Your health comes first...and if you make another coffee-related pun, you're not my friend anymore. Got it?" Jordan's brow wrinkled, her dark eyes boring into Ira's crimson one. 

"Our friendship is coming to a 'bitter' end then." Ira quipped, playfully. 

"Ira Ann Lagear, if so much as one more coffee pun comes out of that mouth of yours, I will knock you out. Maybe then, you'll get your required 8 hours of sleep." With a quick nod toward her office, Jordan took the lead. "Seriously though, your humor needs some work, gosh." 

Ira stared in disbelief at the woman in front of her. There was no point in arguing when she knew Jordan was right, well, for the most part. And so, Ira let herself be laid to rest on Jordan's office couch. The moment she closed her eyes, sleep seized control. She wasn't sure how much time passed when she awoke to panicked shuffling. The pounding in her head grew stronger as she began to claw her way out of stupor.