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[det_montoya]

The heat of hell can't compare to the torture that is Gotham City in mid-July. Montoya spent most of the day traversing from one university building to the next, finding and questioning various professors of tenure and long time staffers. She searched the available records, checked on any odd disappearances of old, and stopped in to see the

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[last_joke_x]

"Nom 'uch 'icken left." Comes the garbled speach from Renee's kitchen. The sigle small light of her fridge giving a dawning of who is causing a mess in said room.

Swallowing down a bite of chicken down as quickly as he can, Red gives a two fingered wave to the good detective. "'Scuse me. I said you don't have much chicken left."

[det_montoya]

Clad in a T-shirt and shorts, she stares at her unlikely visitor from the bedroom doorway. "Jesus," she mutters with a heavy sigh. The look on her face yells... why me?

[last_joke_x]

"Couldn't exactly leave a message or anythin'." He sniffs at the chicken leg he just bit into, then makes a face. Tossing the leg into the trash he roots around some more and comes out with a bottle of water. "How old is this chicken anywho?"

[det_montoya]

What does this look like? A Goddamn supermarket?

The last thing she wants to do is frighten Dee. She closes the bedroom door behind her and pads across the carpet with bare feet. "Wake her up and I'll shove that chicken leg down your throat."