Derrick felt the headache build in the back of his head as he stood next to the mayor, an awkward smile plastered on his face as he posed for the cameras of an absurd amount of journalists. Sure, taking down a gang with nothing but a handful of men and way too much overtime was cool and all, but all he did was his job. Did the detective really have to show up to so many interviews? Ugh. He was too old for this. He didn’t want fame, he wanted a nap…. or even better, a vacation.

Yes, that’s exactly what he’d do. Pack his bags and get out of the damn country, maybe sit on a beach somewhere and waste away for however long he decided. So Derrick did just that a few days later, booking a one way trip to the sunny hillsides of Italy, with no clear return date in mind. Except his trip didn’t unfold as planned. Not when all he wanted to do was melt away into blessed solitude, only to have an annoying pest tail him practically everywhere he went from the moment he stepped off the plane.

“Listen, kid. It’s outta my jurisdiction, and frankly, way above my pay grade. I came here to get some rest, not run around like a headless chicken. I know you keep saying I’m the only detective that can solve your problem, but really, I’m not one of the greats. I'm just me.” Derrick said with a tired huff, rapidly growing exasperated with having to repeat himself. Did he feel bad for brushing this person off? A bit. But his weary bones would not be moved.

“Find someone else to take your case, and leave this old man to his margaritas.” Derrick continued as he sunk lower into his chair with a grunt, before flicking the tiny umbrella in his drink out of the way and taking a sip of the sickeningly sweet concoction. Ah, now that’s the good stuff. Maybe if he would just be left alone he could drink 8 of them, and then go pass out in his hotel for the rest of the day.