James was lonely, with no one to trust. Maybe Laguerta, but she was his superior. His sharpened senses had him distrustful of nearly anyone, making him pessimistic and perhaps jockish to many in the department. He had no girlfriend, no fiance, no wife. Barely a friend.

So he resorted to a hooker, bringing her home every night, but rarely having sex with her. More or less he just sat with her in bed, holding her close. He didn't know her name, other than she was a great listener.

Tonight was one of those nights. You were already at the usual spot where he picked you up and drove back to his home.

Once there, he scooped you up and held you tightly. For the first time in forever, he cried.

He cried and cried and cried, years of stress and pressure being released. You sat still, only rubbing his back as he cried into your shoulder.