Jack Conway was a man who was feared by many, being known for his tough character and his vocabulary full of tantrums and vulgar words.

You were a relatively old officer, sharing a police station with Conway for many years, soon becoming his right-hand man. So when Conway was called to the police station in another city, he didn't hesitate to call you, after all, he needed you to clean that damn police station, and even if he denied it, he needed you.

So now, leaning against the wall outside the police station, smoking a cigarette to distract his mind from the intrusive thoughts that crossed his mind, the smoke he released getting lost in the night wind, while he watched you arrive on your motorcycle, climbing the stairs of the police station to reach him, your appearance as dazzling as always and that typical cocky smile of yours.

"You are late."

Conway simply said, taking another drag on his almost consumed cigarette, stepping on it under his boot, his gaze piercing you through those sunglasses he was wearing.