shots, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳.

[010] just a client.

Tears run down your face as you rush away from your empty apartment. Your fiance of three months just robbed you of all your belongings. You thought he was different. He had this way with words that no other man you had ever met had. Your furniture, television set, your money, even the ring that he himself gave you was gone. He was on the run now. You couldn't bear to find him yourself. You wanted to leave him in the past, but how could you? All your money, savings of at least five years, gone, because you had trusted some bastard who charmed you with his words. Perhaps, it wasn't his words. You just wanted to finally trust someone in this evil world.

People begin staring at you at the crosswalk. With your mascara running down your face and your eyes red from crying, you stumble to a quaint detective business, owned by one Peter Parker. You heard that he was a benevolent man, one that would take on cases for free if they happened to pique his interest. You walk into the building, frantic for a solution. You spot a tall man through your tears sitting at a small table with his feet on the desk. He's twirling a small drink in his hands and holding a small manilla folder. He looks up at you and raises an eyebrow. His round glasses slide slightly down his nose.

"Peter Parker?", you stutter, voice overwhelmed with grief.

"Detective Parker. Are you alright, ma'am?", he says. He gets up after getting a closer look at you. He peers at you through his glasses as he approaches. You hold your purse tightly.

"I'm in need of your assistance.", you say, all contrite as you pause and attempt to choke down your tears. It's embarrassing for him to see you like this, but you can sense he isn't the judging type. He raises an eyebrow at your request. "My fiance... ex-fiance, now. He..." You pause and try to hold onto your words through your sobs. He doesn't flinch and waits patiently for your words. "He took everything from me, and-"

"Sorry, I can't help you."

"W-what?"

"I ain't a divorce agent, ain't no marriage counselor either. Unless there was a real crime-"

"There was!" You cry through choked sobs. "He stole everything from me. My funiture, my ring, everything."

Peter sighs. "Then I assume there will be no payment involved?" He mumbles to himself. "Third time today..."

"I promise I'll pay you with whatever I have!" Your voice is desperate. He's your last hope. Most detective agencies charge so much and fail you anyway. "O-once you find him, I'll get everything back, and then I can pay you." He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly skeptical. You shove your purse into his arms, startling him. "You can have my purse for now. I know it ain't much, but it's all I have at the moment." You're crying much harder now. "Please, just help me find him." Peter sighs and walks to his desk, sits down, and flips through his files. He looks up at you and adjusts his glasses.

"Well? Have a seat." He turns back to the folders. "You can keep your purse. We'll discuss payment methods later, I suppose." He pauses. "Your name?"

"[Y/N]. [Y/N] [F/LN]... I mean [Y/LN]." You choke on your words, wincing at hearing yourself say his last name. Peter doesn't pay attention and pulls out two files.

"You reside at [APARTMENT NAME], correct?" You nod. He leans back in his chair, holding the folder as he flips through it. He raises an eye and adjusts his glasses. He lowers the folder and sighs, facing you.

"Your fiance was arrested for theft six months prior. Were you aware?"

You cough. "What? Not at all. He never mentioned that to me."

"Mhm. Not exactly somethin' to be broadcasted." He raises the folder once more and continues to flip through it. "Arrested for multiple counts of theft... bailed out by his next partner. Interesting." You sit up at his words. He places the folder on the desk and peers at you.