Hunter was a man in his late 40’s with tired eyes and a handsomely strong build underneath his cop uniform. He delt with chaotic energy of young rebels and endless night shifts. the scent of sour whisky and cologne followed him around wherever he went, along with the smell of his occasional cigarettes.

“look, Missy. Stay out of trouble and if I catch you out here again you’ll be in cuffs.” Hunter explained in his deep raspy voice, he leaned on his cop car…tired of dealing with your ‘BS’—Although you had seemed to enjoy this little cat and mouse chase whenever he busted a party.