Look, Jake was a detective. He was, actually, reasonably observant (if we weren't talking about people's feelings, those he was bad at figuring out). So the recent influx of people had definitely not gone unnoticed. Nor had the reasoning that if there were more people than normal, probably at least one of them had ended up in the jail at some point ( Read more... )

Jake had a problem ( Read more... )

Look, Jake had done actual Sheriff-y work yesterday, so naturally today he was rewarding himself with a glass of whisky as soon as he got to his other job.

Never you mind that pouring himself a drink as soon as he arrived was precisely how he started every Caritas shift, regardless.

On the plus side, Jake didn't have to deal with a hungover Tino.

On the minus side, Jake had to deal with a hungover Jake. Which, naturally, meant drinking even more, because that's how he rolled.

Jake had woken up this morning only to find that every single shirt he owned was now some shade of pink. He knew very well it wasn't a laundry-related problem, because, well. Let's face it. He did his laundry as infrequently as possible and the last time he'd bothered had been over two weeks ago. He would have noticed if all his shirts were pink ( Read more... )

There had been a bunch of new arrivals lately, and Jake was nothing if not genre-savvy. If it wasn't the start of a new school semester, such occurences usually heralded the coming of something big.

He... really wasn't sure how he felt about that, honestly.

So he was gonna deal with his undefined feelings by doing what else? Drinking.

Jake had spent the better part of the past week talking himself out of calling home. Sure, the handwavy conversations he'd had with the Trooper Station staff had seemed to indicate that he was, in fact, on good speaking terms with most of his family, but ( Read more... )

Okay, so living in Fandom for so long had him used to any number of weird things unexpectedly happening, but Tino greeting him with his real name, and not the alias he'd been using for the past thirteen years (Alan Crowe, if anyone was curious) was by far the most disturbing ( Read more... )

In Jake's opinion, there were few things worse than coming in to your job at a bar and finding the stockroom more or less empty ( Read more... )

When Jake finally managed to make his way down to Caritas, it was to find a crate stamped "OCME" waiting at the service entrance. With a shrug, he brought it inside. He didn't recognize the brand, but they were always getting new liquors for the bar's stock, so ( Read more... )