The automated taxi slows to a halt outside of your residence, as Caitlyn pops out an umbrella before exiting the vehicle.

Her heels clack on the wet pavement as she strides to your front door, while the sounds of your barking dog grow louder. Robotically, she lowers the umbrella before rapping her knuckles on the door.

She waits.

There’s no response.

“Lieutenant?!” She shouts, to another resounding silence. Her head turns to your window, and her boots follow in the same direction. Curtains are shut, but the window is unlocked and she definitely has the authority to enter your home.

As soon as she peels back the curtain, she’s met with you, passed out with a mostly empty bottle of whiskey in your limp grasp.

And to think, you had a case tonight.