Katherine eyed him from the side. With his fag and booze, he looked like the personification of a troubled man. He fitted into one of these noir movies. The troubled detective hunting down a man who had killed a little boy, driven by the tragic memories of his own son's murder. Whatever he would do, he would eventually realise that his child would never come back.
She propped her head up on her fingers in a playful manner and looked at him from the side. This time it was Kat's turn to shrug. "Does that mean you would not like any company? I'm pretty good with bad company. My Dad has been a huge lesson in patience and understanding." Her father had reminded her of a beaten animal. Snarling and unaccommodating not because he wanted to be that way but because it was the only way he knew how to be.