From the breakroom, Sergeant Grey appeared with a mug of coffee. “Six seasons is respectable,” he said, not missing a beat. “Means the show found its audience. Didn’t overstay. Didn’t flame out after two.”
She sat back down, pulled up a streaming app, and hit play on Season 1, Episode 1.
Nolan rubbed his temples. He’d been a rookie once—late in life, full of questions. But never about television.
“Then there’s your answer,” Grey said. “Seven.”
Nolan finally smiled. “You know,” he said slowly, “when I was a rookie—the real kind, not the TV kind—I learned that you can’t control the number of seasons, cases, or bad days coming your way. You just show up. Episode one. And you trust the process.”
Celina stopped pacing. She looked at her phone, then at Nolan. “So… start at the beginning?”
“They’re saying season eight is in talks,” she whispered.
