( open starter; contains: alcohol, drugs )  →  gregory wiggs

“ venga, joder... uno más, ¿todavía es pronto, no? la noche es joven, no tratéis de joderla. “ dijo antes de servirse un chupito más. podía notar cómo el alcohol quemaba su garganta a esas alturas con cada trago que daba; pero en días como ese nada parecía ser suficiente.

Halloween seemed to be everyone’s favorite holiday here. Then again he was at a bar that found a way to serve pumpkin spice martinis. Garrett came for the booze really, but people watching for muse was always an ulterior motive. Many of the patrons here came in costume; a lot of superheroes, monsters (he snickered at the cheesiness of those costumes), and sexy animals passed by him. The taste of whiskey still stuck to his throat from earlier and he began to crave for a cigarette. 

The results from the second autopsy came in once again and like Garrett had thought, its results pointed to homicide. It was so obvious and the faithful son was in disbelief he was the only one enlightened on the subject. He was insulted by the lack of common sense; he didn’t need a college degree to pick up on the red flags. Now, his palm cradled his phone, eyes honing in on the medium’s contact he received a few days ago. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, or if she could truly help. But it was the shot he needed to take, he needed to work with someone who believed him from the start. 

Garrett was extremely proud of himself. The night before at roughly 12:45 AM, he drafted up the date he promised Teghan. He made the restaurant reservations as soon as he got home, asking the poor hostess who answered every possible question in the book. “When are you open until? What should I dress in? Can you add seafood into your penne a la vodka on request?” The only answer he got was “Dress smart casual, dumbass” and a slam of the phone on the other line. He spent an hour Googling what smart casual even meant, ultimately giving up and settling on a crisp button down with nice trousers and a pair of dress shoes he used to wear at the galas. 

He texted Teghan the game plan the morning of. Ultimately, he decided he’d come get her at her home and they could walk together to the restaurant. As a city man, he didn’t have a car and he hoped the walk would give them more time to talk. After checking himself in the mirror and spraying a hint of cologne, Garrett padded from the bathroom towards his front door, eliciting a loud, wolf whistle. Immediately, barking and trotting was heard, getting nearer until his German Shepherd stood before him, barking questionably. 

quelqu'un a vu mon carnet pour les commandes?