You tossed your keys down and flicked the lights on, allowing yourself to finally indulge in the yawn you'd been suppressing all day.

"Long day?" Rippled a voice from the darkness.

You whirled to face the sofas, your hand already at the gun on your hip. His eyes were unfocused and he was more slumped than sitting. The man who always got the last word, who always issued the last threat. The man who could disappear at a moments notice and never get caught unless he wanted to be. And here he was. Drunk. On your sofa.

"What are you doing here?"

Dorian tried to stand and stumbled slightly, his gaze fixed on you.

"I had nowhere else to go," he murmured, trying to reach for you. "And I needed you."