Cook saunters down the street, cigarette between his cracked lips, ignoring the blurriness infecting his vision.

Baring in mind that he doesn’t remember already what he did tonight, he readies himself for an argument with freddie, or with a stern ‘talking to’ from JJ- although he would just ruffle his hair and call it the end of that..

And most of all, he prepared himself to completely ignore any destructive feat he had taken part in, and blame it on the pills, and the drinks. Perfect.