> Your name is… Well, it doesn’t matter. No one ever calls you by your name. No one even calls you by your old nickname. The only thing anyone ever calls you is Itchy. Alternatively, “that asshole in yellow”, but it doesn’t roll off the tongue quite as well.
> Pushing away from your desk, you grab your mug and head for the office coffee maker. You desperately need some of that godsent caffeine to keep you going at… What time is it? 3 AM? Not that bad. You wish you were at home with your cat, but you’ve still got plenty of paperwork to do. This is what you get for always pushing your reports off to the last second. Granted, you always get it done right on time, having the stacks of folders on Crowbar and Snowman’s desks waiting for them for when they come in the next morning.
> Oh great, it’s empty. You’re fairly certain there had been at least a mug left last time you were here, and there’s no one else in the room with you right now. Now you have to wait. At the very least it leaves you to have some time with your thoughts, something you rarely allow yourself to have. Let’s see...
> All you can think about is work. The bank robberies, the hold ups, the muggings, the GTAs… Everything in your reports are just bouncing around your head all willy nilly, it’s a miracle they haven’t driven you mad yet. Rubbing your eyes to try to ground yourself and clear your mind, you sigh.
> It’s going to be a long night.
