The Shadow Prospect {ONC}

6

It was becoming pretty clear to him that being driven around in a police cruiser was just going to be a regular thing from now on.

Being a little short on money and having no access to a car, he was (for the fourth time in the same day) corralled back into a police cruiser to be driven home by none other than the very same detective that'd gotten him shoved in this mess in the first place.

Wasn't today just going swell?

It was nearly dark by the time Cato's pointing and mumbling directions from the passenger seat led them to the crumbling brick building he had the pleasure of calling home (and he means that with every sarcastic bone in his body. It was four walls and a roof over his head, but the place needed some serious fixing up-).

Getting out was enough of a breeze, having more experience this time around to hauling himself to his feet with crutches the second the cruiser came to a standstill. His knee was still throbbing like hell but manageable enough to not send him to the floor in complete and utter shock.

It was just becoming a little more familiar.

To be honest, it was almost scary how familiar all of this was getting in just the span of twenty-four hours.

Was he really going to be able to move on that easily?

Judging the recent hell he'd call a day, it seemed pretty likely.

But to be fair, he did lose his memory.

That was probably a huge factor to it too. You can't be traumatized by some big world-shaking event in your life if you don't remember it to begin with.

With one hand Cato was able to slam the cruiser door shut behind, hobbling off the road and onto the sidewalk, making a beeline for his apartment building, shoulders hunched. The yellow light from the overhead lamp post bathed the concrete jungle around him in a dull yellow glow, giving the illusion it looked a lot less late than it seemed.

He hoped it wasn't too late.

Let's not forget he still had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn tomorrow-

"Do you need a ride to the station tomorrow morning?"

Crutches thumped to a stop at the shout behind him, fingers tightening at the sound of Methias shout behind him. Why hadn't he driven off yet? Cato was more than ready to finally put his back to the intimidating detective and promptly forget the guy existed, for just a little while-

At least till tomorrow.

Count in a few more seconds for him to make up his mind before he forced himself to turn back around. Cato leaned hard against the crutches holding him in place with a hard sigh, convincing himself not to high-tail it and run the rest of the way inside.

Methias hadn't spoken a word during the drive over, and from a few glances out the corner of his vision during that time, Cato could easily confirm the detective's jaw had remained clamped firmly shut, arms stiff as a pole as he drove. The guy looked about as unfriendly as a person could get from being talkable.

But now?

Now, turning back around, the detective sat with one arm draped out the open car window, eyes squinting in the lamplight, expression waiting for an answer that took Cato by complete and utter surprise that it was even uttered at all.

He didn't tag the man to be the type to offer help.

Especially after work.

Cato contemplated for a second before tightly shaking his head, clenching his jaw to keep from talking back. If he got up early enough he could just take the bus over, no need to sit uncomfortably crammed alone in the same car with the detective again.