"That makes sense. I don't know one person who wants to be turned into a true-crime urban legend." She'd had enough experience with that herself after her shooting, coupled with her father's position as commissioner in New York City had catapulted the entire incident to headline news.
Babs grabbed the pot off the burner once the timer beeped and poured it carefully into the mug. "Sugar or milk?" she asked, pulling out both to bring back to her desk.
She leaned over and handed the mug to Laurie, watching carefully to see how her hands reacted to the task. "A body is certainly a good closure to begin with, in a sense. You consciously know it's over-- it's just a matter of healing now. And I have to say, the fact that you like it here is going to do wonders for that." Babs let her eyes drop to the mug. "Granted, there's the mental, and then there's the physical... your file didn't say anything about physical therapy. It might seem like a little thing in the grand scheme of everything you've experienced, but fixing the physical can go a long way in helping to overcome. It's just one less thing he can continue to hold over you."