Morning already?

who: Garret
where: His apartment
when: morning

Garret had learned years ago not to get totally wasted. Mildly buzzed, but not wasted. Drunk off his nut he’d end up taking offense, likely to something hardly offensive, and start a fight. One drunk against another and then five of the other guy’s buddies joining in, usually meant waking up with bruises and a concussion, once even internal injuries. Then there was the excellent chance of getting pick pocketed. Nah. No more getting wasted outside of his own apartment.

That was why he only had a mild headache come morning. That and a taste in his mouth that made him wonder if something had curled up and died in there. He stumbled out of his bed and almost fell over a shoe. Okay, he wasn’t the neatest housekeeper but he didn’t usually almost kill himself.

Looking at himself in the spotted mirror he noticed the bags under his eyes and the lines on his face. He really should have more sleep, but he’d signed up to work the park this afternoon. He might no longer wear a uniform, but the folks that had the nerve to attend and try to enjoy the New Years festival deserved the protection.

He ran some icy water and noticed the metallic smell that permeated the water in this part of the city. Pipes underground not tended often enough. At least the water was clear. He brushed his teeth to get rid of the god-awful taste before he splashed his face and the shock of the cold helped a bit. Woke him up anyway. He ran wet hands through his short cropped hair, not needing to do much else with it.

He dressed in slightly rumpled trousers, a starched shirt and patterned tie before pulling on his shoulder holster and the belt holster at the small of his back with his partners Smith and Wesson properly dressed for the day out. His shield was clipped to his belt as well before his trench got pulled on to cover the .44s up. His fedora went last, as he’d need the shielding from the rain. He hated the thing.

He needed breakfast. Considering his penchant for burning water he tended to take his at the Nighthawk just down the street. It was gonna be an even longer day without the fortification. He’d throw in some flirting with the plump waitress over there and see an extra slice of bacon on his plate.

He looked over his messy living room once before he left and locked the door.