retrograderesemblance

Jan Zeegers

Interior of Brouwersgracht 39, Amsterdam, Netherlands

Autochrome

EMMA (2020)

Dandelion with a moth and a smaller green moth or butterfly (1741-1784) by Margaretha Barbara Dietzsch

Watercolour and bodycolour on vellum.

© The Trustees of the British Museum.

Alfred Wierusz-Kowalski (1849–1915)

A Branch of Gooseberries with a Dragonfly, an Orange-Tip Butterfly, and a Caterpillar (mid-18th century) by Barbara Dietzsch (German, 1706 - 1783).

Gouache over graphite.

"Nobody calls me JT," Carter grumbled. Or at least, nobody had since Ed, and he hadn't much cared for the nickname back then either. Frowning, he folded his arms, if only to mask the slight way his hands tensed into fists. "If memory serves correctly, you wouldn't have any reason to know I went into medicine."

Eyes shifting toward the badge on the other man's hip, his mouth pursed and his shoulders sagged. "You're on the De Salmo case?" Carter asked, unable to mask the disappointment in his tone. "I thought the local PD had it under control."

Ed wasn't a bad guy -- not really -- but all acquaintances from his past tended to be bad news, and most especially since the guy would likely laugh about this over cocktails with his friends.

"You're on the De Salmo case? I thought the local PD had it under control."

"I am PD, kid. What? Expecting me in politics like the old man?" He opens his mouth to say something else then stops; he never speaks about his personal life at work; it feels wrong. Clearing his throat, "Case got passed higher up. We've reason to believe De Salmo's... injuries... are related to an ongoing investigation."

"What do you need from us?"

Is that cooperation in his tone? Ed almost scoffs; he knows it won't last. If he knows anything, it's that John Carter has a chip on his shoulder bigger than the hospital parking lot.