El stared at the bottle of rum, thinking about drinking it.

It wasn't his fault, really. It wasn't. There was nothing he could have done about it. He barely knew the girl.

And then the phone started ringing. He reached out and tentatively touched it, looking at the caller ID.

Then he answered it.

"Hello?"

The water gently lapped up against the ship as El Pistolero walked up and down the decks of the ship ( Read more... )

"So why are we waiting outside a furniture store?" Right Hand asked ( Read more... )