Who: Gabe Coeus and Faith Anderson What: ...I don't even know. When: Wednesday morning. Where: Gabe's house, Cloudcroft, New Mexico. Warnings: TBA
With so many hit lists out on the open market, Gabriel wasn't having a great month. The game was on for everyone in the trade, and some people that weren't. He'd already gotten a few calls from some old contacts, looking for consultation or equipment. Since his last attempt at taking on one of the contracts, he'd stayed out of it. There was too much competition, too many amateurs out in the field looking to make their mark. It irritated the living shit out of him. Used to be the different factions in this war made their deals to have people killed under the table and, oh yeah, in secret. Now they were showing their ass to anyone with a gun. What the fuck had happened?
He'd been simmering about that all week, and combined with the brewing headache he woke up with Wednesday, he didn't exactly have the most sunny outlook about the rest of the day. Which meant he was already scowling at nothing as he slid out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. There it was the basic morning routine. Shower, brush teeth, etc. He debated shaving for about thirty seconds before deciding there was no point. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be. Raking a hand through his damp hair, he wandered out in to the hall and stopped. Did he smell coffee?
Mop met him in the hallway, already grumbling her demands for breakfast and generally doing her best to tangle up in his feet. He grumbled back and nudged her out of the way, wondering if he was going crazy or if the dog had figured out how to use the coffee maker. Stepping in to his kitchen, he saw that wasn't the case. His irritation bumped up several levels as his eyes swept over Faith, looking completely at home. He was pretty sure he hadn't been there when he went to bed last night, that was something he would remember, which meant that she must have broken in. And made coffee.
He looked down at his scruffy companion and raised a brow. "Some guard dog you are." Mop responded by walking over to Faith with her tail wagging and plopping down at her feet. Just perfect. This time, he actually addressed the woman who he could not for the life of him get to leave. "What're you doing here?"