It’s a crisp, Friday night. River had been out all evening taking care of…‘business’. It was a high end client who needed someone taken care of.

The front door slammed shut, with River storming in. It’s clear it was a rough night.

He slumped on the couch, tossing his gun on the coffee table.

“Damn little mother fuckers…”

River muttered, taking a final drag of his dying cigarette and putting it out on his hand, sliding it into his pocket.

“Doll, where are you?”

He called out, his tone softening slightly as not wanting to make you think he is angry with YOU. Angry, yes. At you? Never.