DECISIONS, DECISIONS… (ACT I)

He didn’t usually smoke.

At least, not in the middle of the night while he’s wearing nothing but a short, fluffy bathrobe out in the open.

Ever since he entered the police academy, he had given up a lot of things, including partying and vices, and would only treat himself to a celebratory beer whenever he reached a personal goal or attained a random surprising success. However, when he’s deeply troubled or extremely upset, he would find himself wanting a dose of nicotine via cigarettes.

If he could help it, he’d rather just relax with music or even sing his heart out in the shower or while soaking in a warm tub filled with sudsy bubbles and aromatic herbs. But when things were truly intensely perplexing, cancer sticks were the way to go for him.

Like right at that moment…

“What the hell,” The Detective murmured to himself as he exhaled smoke through his mouth. “How could he doubt my loyalty? Just because he doesn’t have any dirt on me, that shouldn’t make him start wondering if I’m g
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