Arm itches. Tomorrow I'm losing the sling, and screw medical advice. Meanwhile, I'm stuck on a fucking desk until the docs clear me. Again. This is starting to get old. Next time, Magneto's going to goddamn kill me, even if I have to aim the Chevy myself ( Read more... )

( Valentine's Day )

He gets the phone call in the showers, with his arm elbow-deep in his locker. How's Chris doing? Mendez is asking. Fine, Beston says, telling the lie for his partner. It's what partners do, back each other up. He'll be fine ( Read more... )