secrets

Basic Info:

full name: Quinlan Kelly gender & pronouns: cismale he/him age & date of birth: 42, May 4th 1980 where do they live: Northside time living in bradford springs: 3 years occupation: Owner of Collective Antiques Store in Downtown positive traits: Dutiful, Perceptive, Relaxed negative traits: Remorseless, Audacious, Dishonest

About:

•

Kieran ignores his brother, waving his choice finger around to annoy him before rolling his eyes. “Probably more interesting places than any of yours.” His brother is married to his work and before that he’d been married to a psycho and somewhere in between he’d had a kid with someone who didn’t want anything to do with him. So Kieran thought his fingers were honestly in better places than his brother’s, though he’s smart enough (only just) to not say these thoughts aloud. “Like you’ve never lied to her,” he scoffs before doing a double take, eyes narrowing at his older brother, “wait…you have lied to her, haven’t you?” Oh shit, he really was going to hell, wasn’t he? Still, he snickers proudly at his brother’s compliment. “You’d still be a general, don’t worry.” he reassures Quinlan with a shit-eating grin until his mood sours again and he’s scowling.

“She hates me too. Does her little,” he mimics a joker-like grin and wide-eyed stare, “whenever I’m around. Freaks me out.” There was a point when he had liked Juliette, when he’d been happy for his only brother and now sister. But when things began to sour, the stink permeated everything. “Nah, if I’m doing this,” Kieran says, rapping his knuckles on the counter, oblivious to any customers in the store now. “I want payment up front.” Say what you want about Kieran but, at the end of the day, he’s a Kelly through and through.

“Disgusting.” Quinlan remarks frankly, leaning his face away from the waving finger and turning up his nose to it while trying to wave it away all at once. The older Kelly, once resuming his straight posture, does the double take to Kieran in an identical movement. He tries to not laugh but it escapes subtly. “If you paid attention to anything I told you, you’d know there’s ways to lie to people without lying.” he shrugs indifferently but if he can help it, no. Their mother hasn’t been lied to...directly but she has experienced the famous loopholes Quinlan can weave with his words. “I’m already a king, idiot.” he laughs and it’s not usually a choice insult that Quinlan uses but sometimes it’s the only word that makes sense to use when referring to Kieran.

He has to say the impression of Juliette is rather accurate but Quinlan does need to maintain some professionalism. Belittling her to a collector she has to manage isn’t the smartest move. “I think she hates all of us which is precisely why I’m offering you this chance.” Quinlan says slowly, hoping to not spell it out for his dear brother. “This isn’t the type of payment you can split, Kieran and you know I need results before I can promote.”

•

Quinlan’s insults have always been tired so at least that’s stayed the same. Juliette sets her glass down, shaking her head, “Gaslighting,” she gives a light, practiced laugh, “How original. Tell a woman she’s paranoid and she might believe you, is that it?” She mimics his motion, leaning back in her seat as though she’s got all day. Juliette crosses one leg over the other beneath the table, sharp heel purposefully jabbing him as she does so. She’s not paranoid but petulant? A little bit. “I call it being aware of my surroundings. Something you used to encourage.” Even if it’s probably less useful to him now. For whatever their marriage was worth (see: an expensive, arduous divorce), her time with Quinlan hadn’t been wasted. There was a period when she thought they could really do something great together. But it turns out his arrogance ran deeper than affection where she was concerned and ego (however subtle he pretends his is, it’s not) made it impossible to continue. “Besides, you’re the only person I seem to have annoyed recently but,” she takes a sip of her wine, brows furrowing in feign thought, “it definitely couldn’t be you.” She knows her doe-eyed expression doesn’t fool him but she still catches his cool blue-eyed gaze. “It’s way too pedestrian. And, really, I’m harmless anyway, aren’t I? Barely a fly on the wall worth swatting.” She smiles at him sweetly, as though fully believing he wouldn’t harm her, even though she knows he’s probably waiting for the day when he can stab her in the front. 

Quinlan sighs to her remark, fighting a roll of icy eyes. “If I wanted to get you in your emotions, Juliette, I’d feed into these claims and make you convinced you were being followed.” he shrugs with his hand while the other gently takes his glass of whiskey. “I’m being realistic, somebody would have to know a lot about you for you to be worth following and I’m guessing your family and yourself have been smart enough to keep things well hidden.” he turns it back to her, as if making light conversation while knowing Juliette often doesn’t like to leave any stone unturned. “Being aware isn’t the same as thinking you’re being followed.” he belittles her quickly before knocking back the whiskey and putting the empty glass down with a sigh. Already this conversation is annoying him but he doesn’t let it show, his mouth just twitches with a bitter smile that’s gone as quickly as it appears. “You’re not harmless, my darling.” he tries to comfort her sarcastically, tilting his head slightly as he helps himself to a re-fill. He will need it if this night is to continue. “You’re just not important.” he looks at her then and uses his free hand to signal an apology. “In their eyes, I mean. But, it’s probably nothing.”

“Prank is an immature way of putting it. I think it’d scare him into shape. It would have done me if I was younger, thinking my family weren’t going to be a cushion for me to fall on.” Cian could relate to Kieran in many ways and maybe Quinlan would listen one day. “You see it as a problem but you have to admit, it would just be new business for us.” he added, knocking back more of his drink before he laughed. He then slapped his cousin’s shoulder, cackling with expectation. “That’s what I like to hear, last time I saw you drunk was at Christmas. I like drunk Quinlan. Your eyes stop doing the scary thing.” he poked fun, knowing he was lucky to be able to get away with it. The mention of Soraya made him hum, sitting back in the seat and throwing his arm across the back rest. “I invited her so let’s leave it at that. I doubt you want to open the can of date worms, Quin. Your taste in women is…strange.”

“And when he figures out it was to scare him into shape? Then what?” Quinlan blinks, tilting his head ever so slightly as he undoes his suit jacket to relax fully. “Do you want to be in the firing line for that one? Be my guest.” he knocks back the rest of his drink, leaving the empty glass on the side table before he sinks back in the couch. His eyes dart to the door, wondering if it’s time to mingle again with the guests and get away from serious conversation. “Scary thing?” he looks back at Cian, a small wave of offence in his expression before he laughs. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve never even heard that before in my life.” Quinlan scoffs, thinking his cousin is just trying to get a rise out of him. “My taste in women needs some work, I agree. But inviting your little journalist girl is more interesting. You invited her...and she’s here?”

•

“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” Kieran glowers, knowing full well what Quinlan’s getting at. He can walk through the door anytime he likes. But it comes down to the fine line that exists between wanting to maintain the lifestyle he’s led and resisting anyone who’s ever told him how to live his life. And, recently, Quinlan is the biggest offender of the latter. The younger Kelly shoves his brother’s hands away, flipping him off instead. “Here’s an idea: why don’t you say we both went and make her day? I might burst into flames if I try.” He shrugs, as though there’s not much he can do about his place in heaven or hell at this point. 

“Ah, that’s a good one, Quinlan. Who says you’re not funny?” Kieran actually scoffs at the idea of trailing his ex-shrew-in-law, flashing an award winning smile at a passing customer making their way to the other side of the store. He casts a blue-eyed glance back at his brother, realizing he’s serious and his expression drops. Fuck that. “I think it’s a fucking terrible idea. She’s psycho, Quinlan. You wouldn’t want to put your brother in harms way, would you?” Never mind the fact he’s pretty sure she’s still never forgiven him from scratching her car like ten years ago or whatever it was at this point. You could barely notice it too. 

Kieran fancies himself a comedian but Quinlan doesn’t laugh, he simply takes a breath to balance the rising stress. He only laughs when his brother pushes away his hand, still finding glee in those boyish moments between the two of them. “Put that finger away, I don’t know where it’s been.” There’s something real about it sometimes, away from the suit and ties and the serious whispers of money and reputation. Sometimes they can resemble their young selves. Just two boys with big responsibilities waiting for them. “You want to lie to our mother? I’m willing to take the gamble about the flames. It might give us some peace and quiet. For a while. We all know you’d return with Satan in your army, anyway.” his voice is low and serious but the corner of his lip twitches enough that Kieran will know it’s to play along. Only those closest to Quinlan know the dry humor, and have the right to see it.

While everything Kieran says about Juliette is true, Quinlan doesn’t react as such. He just remains stoic and lets his brother vent the very fair statements. Then he nods, glancing to the browsing customers and back again. “You’re as bad as each other but dare I say it, I think if anybody could find out what she’s up to it’d be you. Cian and me, well, that’s just obvious.” he compliments his brother, mostly with sincerity but of course with a tiny game of chess too. “Think of it as a favor, but one with a big reward.”

where: quinlan’s office (wherever that is)

who: @quinlankellyy​

Finn carried the bank bag into the building and moved through to get to Quinlan’s office, ignoring if anyone was trying to get his attention or not. Even after a few years it still felt like Finn and Quinlan weren’t connected as well as he had with the previous boss. He was grateful to keep his position within the family but for some reason he questioned the stability of it which he never had before. “Aye boss, got the cut from Restricted Access and the chop shop here for you.” He greeted, setting the bank bag down on the table. “Things still seem a bit tense out there, any news from the Sheriff on when they’re going to point the finger at someone?” He could ask Gabe, but he wanted to hear it from the man in charge. Get a feel for how things are going. 

It isn’t that Quinlan doesn’t trust Finn, the man would not hold the rank he does if that was the case. It’s that Quinlan understands the pull of family, how even when they are wrong or vile, blood comes first. At least that’s how he has been raised and he has seen how families can be likened to black masses, pulling everything into them at unsuspecting times. “Thank you. I hope everything’s going well there.” he answers Finn, not glancing up from his book until a few moments later. “It looks like it.” he adds with a laugh, noting the sizable fortune. His glassy eyes move to the windows at speak of the happenings beyond them, and his lips tug into a small and contemplating frown. “I suppose I understand why it’s tense.” he sympathizes. “Loss is never easy.” he adds, to seem slightly more human than he has been feeling lately. “Oh, I don’t doubt there’s already been fingers pointing at us the whole time.” he laughs slightly, fetching the decanter of whiskey and pouring them both a glass each. “But, no news worth mentioning. We have a few eyes on it too, just to make sure there’s no...funny business. But it seems the culprit had a good understanding of security camera blindspots. Unsurprisingly.”

+ QUINLAN COLLECTIVE ANTIQUES 

Zen weaves between the dimly lit aisles of the antique shop, tread light with steps that barely make a sound. Collective Antiques is closed for the night but there’s always just one person still working. Two, if you count Zen. He makes his way to the back where Quinlan’s office is and knocks on the door. Upon entering, he takes in his boss and friend sitting at the desk and nods in his direction. “It’s handled.” He withdraws his phone from a suit pocket, sliding it across the desk so Quinlan can see the image on display. Two severed fingers, one with a family ring still attached. “I called Adam to clean up.” @quinlankellyy​

They key to success doesn’t always boil down to money or power. Of course those help, but not quite as much as people around you that you can trust. Zen has always been one of them and Quinlan never takes the feeling for granted of being able to contact him and know the job will be done. “Excellent.” he says as the cigarette reaches his lips and his free hand retrieves the phone. He takes his time to study the image, not out of distrust but the feeling of enjoyment that a blockage has been removed. “I’ll get Cian to pull some journalist strings. It’s being made to look like an intruder, hm? Did you take anything or are you leaving that for Adam?” Quinlan asks, all in the name of work as he gives the phone back to Zen to destroy. Then he reaches for the whiskey decanter and glasses and gestures for his friend to sit. “You can relax now. Thank you.”

Cian sighed at the obvious reply from Quinlan, to make him think deeper but that was why they worked well together. Cian could push Quinlan to consider more brutal choices and Quinlan could offer other approaches, sometimes there were disagreements but they usually were settled fairly. They’d never tell anybody else, but sometimes a quick game of rock paper scissors decided many fates for the organization in choosing who’s idea to follow. “Have you ever considered that helping him clear up messes is what makes him think he can keep making them?” Cian laughed, but he knew it was only because Quinlan cared. Sometimes caring was a weakness, though. “Can’t we shock him?” it was a true suggestion even though Cian was laughing. “Set him up on a job, you know? Fake cops, fake arrest. Make him sit his ass in jail and not bail him out until he admits he needs to grow up?”

“That sounds like a glorified and expensive prank, Cian.” Quinlan answers almost immediately, without giving much thought to the proposal. He instantly thinks of it as nonsense, believing that Kieran has perfected the art of being a hindrance and chaos-induced storm all at once. “Kieran is smarter than he acts, that’s half of the problem. He will probably know within seconds that something doesn’t feel right. Besides, he’d probably become the lord of the prison’s black market and we’d have a whole different problem to try and fix.” Quinlan wants to laugh at it but he can’t find much amusement to the story, it feels too realistic to be funny. “Let’s not talk work anymore, I planned this night so we can get drunk and laugh about the things we used to. Whatever happened to that pretty journalist, hm? Did you invite her?”

-

“Is she even home?” Roman asked, bowing his head slightly to try and get a better look at the building. Still, he started up the engine and pulled away from the curb. He listened about Juliette but before he could respond, his mouth fell open at Quinlan’s little snap. “I am tolerable, what the fuck?” he reacted quietly, half offended. “Sorry for trying to talk sense into you, you’ve never acted this paranoid.” and Roman would know that from all the time he spent wondering if Quinlan had suspicions about him and Sofia. “Alright, too much information.” he pulled into a new space and then glared at Quinlan. “Want to talk about why she annoys you so much or…want to pay me a little extra to pretend this is a good idea?”

“I don’t know, that’s why we’re here.” Quinlan says, eyes wide with disbelief and a bemused tone to Roman’s suddenly talkative nature. “You’re tolerable when you hate everything and are silent, Roman.” he says freely and willfully, getting comfortable again in the passenger seat as they turn the block. “Paranoid?” the Kelly scoffs and then laughs for perhaps a forced moment too long. “I’m not paranoid, I just don’t trust her. She’s always up to something and I know that she’s waiting for the day I make one wrong move so she can snap me up with her crocodile jaws.” he answers, like a perfectly sane and not-paranoid man. “Roman, if you haven’t gathered that I don’t want to talk or hear you talking then I don’t know what else to say to you.” 

•

“Right,” he snaps his fingers, “I forgot your suggestions are only ever that.” As if Quinlan ever suggests anything without meaning it as a directive. Kieran rakes a hand through his hair, because he knows that Quinlan has little to no trust in him. Any that was left when he was forced to Lockwood was basically pissed away during the storm. Stupid fucking Jones. “So you’re saying I should expect you at mass?” As if Kieran can remember the last time he’d gone. No, if there’s one thing Kieran worships it’s his autonomy, and excess, and neither fit into his brother’s belief system. “Maybe your reflexes are just slowing down, Quinlan,” he replies with a smirk, hearing another customer come in with the door bell. 

“I might actually write that down because you’ve done the opposite and, well,” he gestures at his brother with a shit-eating grin, as if to say look where it’s gotten you. “I think Tris is the only good thing to come out of any of your relationships. Jules, probably the worst,” he snickers before straightening a bit, glancing down at his watch and then back at Quinlan. “She’s looking a lot like the cat that ate the canary these days. I don’t trust it.” It might be the first sensible thing he’s said all day, mostly because it pisses him off how she’s always sniffing around him, like she’s smelt something bad. Stupid blonde bitch. 

“If you don’t want to be here, you know where the door is.” Quinlan remains stoic, gesturing politely to the front of shop. He knows his suggestion was a quiet order, but if Kieran is insistent on being a headache then he’d rather the order was disobeyed. Their little pretend world of collectibles is Quinlan’s peacefulness, and Kieran is a bull in a literal china shop. Deciding to call his brother’s bluff, he straightens his back and nods while slapping a hand to Kieran’s shoulder. “I think mass is a great idea now that you mention it.” he smirks ever so slightly, giving his brother a few affectionate taps. “You know our ol’ mam will be happy to hear we’re back there. It’ll be good for us, every Sunday morning.” Another suggestion. 

As much as Kieran loves to display how annoying he is, Quinlan does agree with the younger Kelly’s take on his relationships. His marriage was a disaster and the divorce even more so, and Sofia was like a hurricane of intense emotions. “You should keep an eye on her for me.” he responds quickly, yet another suggestion. “I’m sure you have plenty of time between people who haven’t paid up, and the fact you see to her makes it a perfect opportunity.” Surely keeping tabs on Juliette wouldn’t be something he can get wrong. “What do you think?”

-

Roman just shrugged his response at first, letting Quinlan talk as he stared out of the van. He hadn’t seen a single person who looked like Juliette and wondered if Quinlan even had the right address. “Whatever you say, but you can’t be pissed off when I say I told you so.” he grumbled, checking his phone. Voice notes from his sister were quickly swiped away and then the several more from his mother. “Don’t you think you should just put it to a vote?” Roman asked with no idea if Quinlan had done it before or not. “I don’t believe for a second that you’d keep her involved if there wasn’t a good use for her. Guess appointing someone as her security would be too obvious, right?” Roman could hear that he was talking too much again and sunk a little further in his seat. “This is fucking ridiculous, Quinlan.”

Azure eyes shoot to his counterpart, judgmental and cold in response to how childish Roman is being. As if planning a stake out van for an ex-wife isn’t childish in it’s own right. Quinlan sighs, ignoring most of the commentary as he looks back to the street and then raises a hand to wave his finger. “Circle the block again. Maybe she’s seen us parked here.” he orders quietly, resting an elbow against the door and then his head to his hand. “It’s her family that’s useful, not her. She’s a pawn. A very annoying pawn.” he replies, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Roman, I asked you to join me because I thought you’d be bearable in such close quarters.” Quinlan admits, glancing back to his friend. “She’d never trust security, but she’d probably fuck them. And despite how she acts, her vagina doesn’t hold all the secrets of the universe.”

Cian didn’t think he was good at this sort of conversation, his technique could be described as brutal but maybe it was needed. He never thought his ideas could be harder in comparison to his cousins, but Quinlan had always tried to jump through hoops to save Kieran drastic consequences. “Cut him off.” Cian said, handing back a full glass to Quinlan and meeting his against it before drinking. “Temporary strip him of the title, stop all information getting to him. Bank cards cancelled. Make him earn something.” It was an archaic opinion but everybody else earned places with hard work and it gave them more pride for it too.

His head cants to the side as Cian speaks, features expressionless as always as a million thoughts cross through his mind. The idea isn’t a new one but Quinlan discarded it a long time ago, knowing that Kieran would manage to be more of a problem if it ever happened. Quinlan laughs slightly, following the toast and sipping the whiskey. “And then what?” he offers Cian to do a little more brainstorming. “He’d find a way to make sure we knew that we made a mistake Cian, you know that as well as I do.” he laughs despite no amusement being genuine. “Drastic is good but not to the point where it makes things more difficult for us. I suppose I could make Juliette constantly follow him everywhere, he hates her and she hates him. Be like two little horror dolls running in a circle. Each other’s nightmare coming to life.”

•

“And give you something else to complain about? Yeah fucking right.” With each button he presses, Kieran can see the leash getting shorter, can feel the plank’s edge drawing closer. He knows his brother’s patience is wearing thin but he can’t help the wild thing inside of him. He’s a Kelly, after all, and just because his brother had managed to find his place in fine suits and languid sips of expensive whiskey doesn’t mean Kieran has. He’ll take the bottle over the glass every time and he supposes that’s part of Quinlan’s problem with him. The Kellys are not known for their mild manner, Kieran least of all. “Your faith in me is astounding,” he scoffs, leaning back against the glass counter and shrugging. “Because I have. That demilune table from Italy that’s been sitting in the window since Christmas? Sold it firs thing. God rid of that dining room table set too.” Kieran can be charming when he wants, playing up that Irish flair when it’s convenient. “This is the part when you say thank you,” Kieran goads with a please smirk.

“You’re aware I’m not making you work here, yes? I suggested it, but you don’t have to.” Quinlan reminds his brother, and certainly a Kelly suggestion is in fact a demand in disguise but that is by the by. Monitoring his brother has become a full time job of sorts, and Quinlan never used to mind it. It was what brothers did but now it is beginning to feel like Quinlan has idiot tattooed on his forehead and it’s Kieran who stabbed the needle in there. “I’ve never been much of a believer at the best of times, Kieran but I can be swayed when given something to believe in.” he says quietly, not wanting to raise his voice with customers browsing. It must have looked hilarious, two brothers trying to quietly debate. “You didn’t even give me the chance.” Quinlan scoffs back with a dutiful glare to Kieran. “I was about to say, very good. I don’t need to thank you for doing your job. If you want praise for doing the bare minimum, date a girl with low self-esteem.”

+ QUINLAN  FLANAGAN’S PUB & GRUB

“You know what’s strange,” Juliette begins without preamble, taking the seat opposite Quinlan, glass of wine in hand. She never cared for beer despite the pub atmosphere. “There’s been this old van around my neighborhood the past week. Looks like it could painters but I’ve only seen it driving around. Weird right?” She takes a sip of her cab and cants her head at her ex-husband. “I’m debating about calling the police next time. Maybe they’re casing the area. Better safe than sorry, right? What do you think?” @quinlankellyy​

Quinlan ignores the image of a gloating told you so Roman that comes into his mind as Juliette speaks about the van. However, his response remains dour and unmoved as he shrugs, picking up his own glass of whiskey for a sip. “You sound paranoid.” Quinlan muses gently, setting the glass down and leaning back in his seat. “Have you done something that would annoy the wrong people?” he acts intrigued, trying to help her solve a mystery he knows the answer to. “If calling the cops makes you feel safer then do it, but they could know someone who knows someone. Might even be them.” he shrugs, still ignoring Roman’s droning monotone voice telling him he knew this would happen. Trust Quinlan to have an ex-wife who, despite having little mole-like eyes, can somehow see and notice everything.

“Always a girl.” Cian used to comfort his cousin by saying Kieran would grow out of the mischief, or get bored of causing constant fires that needed to be put out. Just like he did…but Kieran then approached the age Cian was when he got his act together. Then he surpassed it. And he no longer had much comfort to give. “Sure it was a dream and not the after effects making you think it was a dream?” Cian laughed even though he sounded serious as he poured himself another drink. “Maybe he just doesn’t want to be a part of it. Ever had that talk? Be a shame though. He can make people pay up fast.” 

Quinlan listens to the cousin who has more experience with outlandish behavior. His own idea of acting out was drinking too much and spending too much, but Quinlan can’t ever remember a time he’s ever caused any issues beyond that. Not as many as Kieran has. He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing his head. “Probably was real, you’re right.” he grins, holding out his empty glass for a re-fill while Cian has the bottle. “We hardly talk, Cian. Not without there being some kind of disagreement happening when we do.” he exhales, looking Cian over. “He can, he has all the potential and more. I don’t know why he throws it away. And he doesn’t ever tell me there’s a reason either...I think he just...hates it.”

+ QUINLAN ANTIQUE SHOP

“Welcome in…we’ll be with you in a second or let us know if you need help or whatever.” Kieran all but mumbles from his spot at the counter of his brother’s shop. For the most part, if anyone wants help they ask for it. The only time Kieran volunteers it is if he thinks he can make a sale (he almost always can) but if he actually feels like he wants to make a sale is a different question (he’s not in the mood for humans). It’s been a few weeks since the storm and he’s been laying low (for the most part) lest Quinlan blow another gasket. He hears footsteps approaching and finally deigns to look up from his phone, contemplating texting Bunny and scoffs when he spots the devil himself as he meets his brother’s gaze. “Playing undercover boss or something, Quinlan?” He’s bored and leans back against the counter, waiting a reprimand for slacking off or some other minute offense he’s sure Quinlan will berate him for. @quinlankellyy​

While Quinlan holds onto hope that Kieran will straighten his act, the eldest Kelly gave up a long time ago actually expecting him to work in the shop properly. As annoying as it is, he can live with Kieran being a dope with the customers, or idly scrolling his phone. If only he’d just stop fighting people for no apparent reason. “You could have stayed home.” Quinlan muses as he eyes his brother’s ensemble for the day. They haven’t addressed the outburst from the storm or the way it was obvious to be Quinlan’s breaking point, so it’s business as usual. Knowing Kieran, he probably found the whole thing hilarious. “Surprised you haven’t leapt across the counter to strangle them for disturbing you.” he whispers, looking ahead to the customer with a blank stare. It doesn’t take long for Quinlan survey the stranger, giving a meek shrug back to his brother. “Sold anything while I was gone?”

A little bit of Benny Goodman on the speakers and Quinlan is a happy man, along with his glass of whiskey and a chain of cigarettes. He misses being able to share this kind of time with his brother, but he is in a constant suspicion that Kieran would find a way to make a quiet wind down into a raging party. “Some poor girl probably has his attention, until another one does.” Quinlan laughs to their cousin as the topic remains on Kieran for a short while. “These days I don’t even bother asking him to come for a drink, I had a dream the other night I offered him one at the shop- he spiked it and tied me to the desk chair so he could raid the safe.”