Home, James! Who: Galen and Andrew Where: The inside of a car mostly. When: Nightfall. What: The most awkward first meeting ever. I mean seriously?
Gas money was too expensive and there wasn’t enough parking and his car was still in the shop because it was afflicted by a case of ‘fuck if I know’ according to the mechanic working on it. It seemed to Galen that his Mustang had crapped out on him purely out of spite ,or comedic timing, because it seemed that mechanically nothing was wrong with the damn thing. So that was nearly two weeks ago and Galen was sick of not having his car. It forced him to rely on the services of the Ad Gustum car services that – while highly convenient – was not the kind of transport he wanted to use regularly. (Because your white collar buddies might one day think to ask why black cars pick you up after work everyday and the answer is ‘cuz yur a ho.’)
The Ann Arbor DA’s office was in a tizzy. There was a series of supernatural related hate crimes a few conventional ‘I murdered by cheating husband’ cases and – the tizzy part – a series of killings just south of Ann Arbor, the victims of which turning out to be entirely elementals. It was a dizzying case with the killer still at large, several legal advisors already on assignment with it. But all this paled in the face of the fact that if his ride didn’t show in exactly five minutes and get him back to Ad Gustum in fifteen, he was going to be late for an appointment.
(Oh my God. Does it help you to call them appointments?) No. (Awesome, you psychological master you.) Galen straightened his shirt sleeve after glancing at his watch. He was about to get irate when the usual black Lincoln town car circled the corner. It pulled over beside him and Galen tugged the door open and got in, shutting it behind him and opening his brief case to leaf through a couple case files.