❝ there are no saints ❞
“You can do your worst. At the end of the day, it's what you do best.”
Disgraced, debased, disentangled from the two men who trusted him most in this cruel world, and yet still dangerous. In spite of it all, he hadn’t lost his bite. Even if the situation was unbearable most days, he managed. No one dared to speak of it in his vicinity. Like a livewire that no one wanted to touch, everyone stayed away from him.
Daniel stalked the halls, turning a corner into the bullpen. He wandered past the cubical area to return to his office, a fishbowl, just a room he wanted nothing to do with anymore. He couldn’t retire just yet, couldn’t really afford to, and he hated the monotony of it all. Too much had happened. His past had caught up with him, and the skeletons in the closet had piled too high.
By the time he reached his office, his eyes lifted to find a woman inside. She was sitting in front of his desk, patiently waiting for him to return from afternoon errands. Her hair was a fiery red, back straight. She checked her nails, glancing at the wall, and eventually down again.
Opening the door, he brushed a polite preamble aside and asked, “Can I help you?” He certainly wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries today.
@dark-devilish-desires













