The boys are back in town, the boys are back in town... (RP, NC-17)
Paul's sprawled in the armchair, the good comfortable one, with a glass of Bordeaux in one hand and some Miles Davis soft on the speakers. Relaxing. Not that today had been especially stressful-- boring was more the word he'd use-- but it still felt good to be sitting down with nothing but a bit of hedonism to look forward to.
Boring day, yes, dead bodies with no mystery or puzzle to them, the sort of corpses that triggered neither his curiosity nor his sense of moral outrage, just left him making gallows humor cracks to the cops who either didn't get them, or got them and looked appalled. Blah blah blah.
The one bit of interest to the day had been the call he'd gotten earlier from a young man letting him know he just happened to be in town...
Yeah, and just happening to want yourself good and worked over, Anson, Paul thought to himself in dark amusement as he took another sip of the wine. God frickin' bless you, kid, and those like you who ensure that the dirty old bastards of the world, like myself, will never want for entertainment.
He hummed along with the rise and fall of the trumpet, eyes closed, waiting for the knock at the door. Just nearing seven, so, any minute now, as that was the time he'd given Anson on the phone earlier.
And then the fun could begin.
Boring day, yes, dead bodies with no mystery or puzzle to them, the sort of corpses that triggered neither his curiosity nor his sense of moral outrage, just left him making gallows humor cracks to the cops who either didn't get them, or got them and looked appalled. Blah blah blah.
The one bit of interest to the day had been the call he'd gotten earlier from a young man letting him know he just happened to be in town...
Yeah, and just happening to want yourself good and worked over, Anson, Paul thought to himself in dark amusement as he took another sip of the wine. God frickin' bless you, kid, and those like you who ensure that the dirty old bastards of the world, like myself, will never want for entertainment.
He hummed along with the rise and fall of the trumpet, eyes closed, waiting for the knock at the door. Just nearing seven, so, any minute now, as that was the time he'd given Anson on the phone earlier.
And then the fun could begin.