Ultimatum

3. Cigarettes

Kennedy-Gray Residence
Kingston, London

Theo's last half an hour was spent sat still while his husband fussed over a cut on his forehead. All he'd done was crouch down to search one of the floor cupboards - he just forgot how far the kitchen counter protruded over the door when he stood up.

In this moment, he stands in the hallway examining the wound in the mirror. Displayed back at him, his fingers ruffle the curls atop his head until they collapse over his brows. They're arranged to cover the cut.

The hallway is splintered by the squeal of a car door slamming shut. His head snaps towards the blurred window at the door's centre, squint catching streaks of neon yellow, blue and white. Shingle crunches under feet. He frowns. Just as the footsteps crunch closer and closer to the door, the bottom step behind him creaks. He whips round, wild expression taking the man off guard.

"Alright?" Dexter asks, confused. He gently rubs his shoulder. Theo swallows the nerves tangling in his throat. He wills himself to respond but the words stick in his throat. He glances up at Dexter and waits for him to piece together the familiar trio of colours they'd both hoped to never see outside their home again. The crunching grows louder, then collapses into silence. The hush is broken by fractured knocks to wood.

From the lounge, Tiger begins to roar. Dexter winces. Seconds later, the Labrador comes sprinting out of the room and past the staircase. He ducks his head, attempting to peer through the letter box. He hops around the doormat - three steps back, two steps forward, another step back, like he's practising an intense barn dance - while alternating between which shoulder he tosses his head over.

Both men are still. Theo's expression is one of curious fear, fingers curling around the opposite elbows as his arms fit protectively over his chest. Meanwhile, Dexter appears completely neutral. As if he had no clue who had just knocked at his door; as if he was preparing to open-up to an Amazon delivery. He walks towards the door, gently guiding Tiger's body away. Just as another knock resounds through the house, he opens the door a foot or so. Enough for conversation, enough to guard himself. Over his shoulder, his husband nibbles at the skin surrounding his nails. His free hand rubs a path between his dog's ears, soothing the hickory gloss.

"Dexter Gray?" The copper's hand lifts to scratch the back of his neck. Dexter watches him closely, forcing himself to nod in response. He can't help but notice that the copper's helmet is askew on the top of his head, silver emblem pointing towards the lamppost at the end of the driveway. It's a little difficult to take him seriously. "I'm PC Scott and this is PC Hart."

The brunette beside him stretches her thin lips into a sympathetic smile when Dexter meets her gaze. At the side of her head, her chestnut curls escape the confines of her hat only by a half inch, pinned to her crown. Her stern jade eyes redirect into the house, perturbed by his cagey demeanour. For a moment, he wonders if he knows her from somewhere.

Her eyes flicker back to him. Her smile waivers. "You're the brother of Harley Gray?" Her voice is cold as steel with an edge of Northern twang. Dexter definitely knows her from somewhere.

Pushing this aside, he clears his throat and responds with a simple, "Yeah."

Her smile is strengthened, amping up on the sympathy. "Can we come in, Mr Gray?"

Dexter steps back, pulling the door further open. He nods his head towards the hallway and allows PC Scott to pass first. He enters the living room following a brief direction called to him, PC Hart following a couple of feet behind. She eyes Dexter as she passes him. As soon as she realises that he'd noticed, she brings back The Sympathetic Smile and looks towards the living room.