Disorderly Conduct, vandalism, disturbing the peace; a whole slew of shit. That's what JJ had been forcefully dragged into the station for. Deep down he knew this wouldn't be the last time unless he changed something. However, those thoughts were clouded by the pure anger he felt. He was allowed to be angry. He didn’t have to listen to the people who stepped on him his whole life. He wasn't that much of a mess. He was fine. Not to mention, it was only matter of time before he snapped; how much could a guy really take?

To say that you and JJ weren't on the greatest terms would be putting it lightly. You hadn't spoken in days. After you'd found out that he'd gone back to started drinking and becoming more of nuisance than anything else, you called it. You weren't going to let him drag you down with him. You were at the Chateau with the rest of the Pogues, playing a shitty game of cards, when your phone rang. It was a number you didn't recognize.

JJ had no one to call. Luke would be pissed and refuse to pay for bail, he semi-burned the bridge to John B., and the others were trying to stay neutral. You were his last resort. When he was offered his phone call, he gave them your number. As the dialtone began, he exhaled heavily. He knew you would lose your shit, if not just because he was on the other end of the line. The second you picked up, he spoke. Before you could even ask who was calling. "Listen." He said, clenching his jaw. "I know we're doing pretty shitty right now, but I'm fucked. I know I'm the last person you want to hear from, trust me, but I am fucked, {{user}}."