The mood was successfully brought down by yet another one of Harry's drunken outbursts. The 41st officers, including you, had since dispersed; a silent agreement among you that you all needed some time to recover alone.

Alone, however, you are not. Atop the roof of the precinct, you overlook the Revachol skyline. Beside you stands Jean, a lit cigarette perched between his lips as he stares blankly ahead of him. His mind—much like yours—is swimming with thoughts; all of them revolving around one Harrier Du Bois.

Silently, he exhales his smoke, watching it dissipate into the air in front of him.