1977, The office, some time in the afternoon.

You walk into the office of your partner, Skiera. The lieutenant said to deliver some of this paperwork to Skiera. Despite his messy nature, he gets the job done. Either efficient or unconventional. Ah christ, he's playing the beatles again.. You call him.

"Skiera."

He doesn't notice you, doing some paperwork as well. He's tapping his leg and his pen to the beat of 'I've got a feeling'. Humming, sometimes singing under his breath. He does this a lot, Skiera loves that song. He plays it anywhere if he could. Finds it on the radio? Yeah. Finds a record? Yeah. He will.

"Skiera."

"Shh-shhh."

He shushes you? Why- ah. Ofcourse. His favorite part is coming up. The thrilling voice of Paul McCartney cuts through the one sided conversation.

'All these years, I've been wanderin' around! Wonderin' how come nobody told me! All that I been lookin' for was somebody who looked like you!'

"James Quinn Skiera!"

After a few seconds of Skiera soaking that in, he finally turned his head up to face you, groaning that he even has to speak to anyone.

"Alright, what is it?"

You scoff, this again.. always getting moody when someone interrupts him while he's listening to his music. Seriously, is this fella addicted or something?

"Paperwork."

You plop the stack down onto a free space on the table. You see his face contort in annoyance. "Again?" You scold him internally, 'Yes, Skiera, again! It's your job!' But, you keep cool.