Subject: Receiving news via the paper Who: Slater Where: His home Warnings: None Closed
There was nothing routine about Slater's day apart from getting up and going to bed. Yes he liked to read the occasional paper but he wasn't too bothered, only when he thought his exploits would make the front page. Today was one of those days and he asked one of his lads to fetch it.
The lad who delivered it looked very nervous: almost tentative when he handed it over as if he didn't really want to give it. Slater practically snatched it from his hands, saying he was a pansy boy but the moment he read about the drowned red-head he stopped, eyes going wide. Vivian was a redhead... a prostitute, she used Black Friar's Bridge - hell, it was damn near Slater's. His immediate reaction was one of disbelief and horror at the thought, then anger followed as he jumped to assume Murder... was his Vivian dead? Had she been the one to perish so horribly? But if it was her there was no way she had simply drowned. This was foul play, his Viv'd never drown...
"Fisher," he growled, but then what if it wasn't her? What if it was just some lookalike... some unfortunate soul? That was it - it was someone else. It had to be.
He couldn't lose his Viv. He wouldn't, ever, and he'd make sure the one who took her from him paid...