When Charlie entertwined her fingers with his, Julian's initial instinct was to pull away, but he fought back the reaction. She might be his boss, but that didn't mean he couldn't care about her. She was probably the only person in the city who he did care about, after all. Not that he was completely incapable of compassion or empathy; Julian simply preferred to not have many close connections with others. He was better company for his thoughts than most, and very few people actually looked up to his position as assistant to a washed-up investigator.

But Julian could have taken one of several jobs. He chose this one over a spot in the police force, simply because of Charlie. He never mentioned it to her, but she might have wondered at some point how she got an applicant as overqualified as Julian. 

They walked hand-in-hand for miles. At one point, it seemed like they probably could have hailed a cab, but Julian's hand gripped Charlie's slightly tighter as it passed. They finally arrived on the street where the woman lived-- er, died, only to see cops searming the building. "So, what now?" Julian asked.