Alastair had been convinced long ago that New York City would be the place he would ultimately go to die. Be it through natural causes or otherwise, he had already decided. Lakewood meant nothing to him, but--- Raphael meant something. He was the only person he could talk to without feeling like he was talking to a brick wall. Even amongst his siblings. Lucille, seemingly the only one with enough brains to keep him sane could only be put up with for so long. Lucien was inept at keeping a conversation going. He hated the two others with a fiery passion and the last one was lying in a mass grave some four thousand kilometres from where they were stationed.
He navigated the streets of Lakewood, trying to remember where the Stone estate resided. Difficult when he constantly had several trains of thought going at once--- alcohol hadn’t helped either. He stumbled towards a familiar gate, pressing the intercom as he braced himself against the gate, throwing up whatever he’d been nursing since getting off the plane.
“Raph. Open up. I kinda threw up all over--- everywhere.” Glancing around the immediate area.
[ @raphael-stone ]
