Miami isn't everything Clementine imagined it might be. It's a little grittier, a little less tropical, and there are lots of chicks running around in bikinis. Too much competition
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Something's not right, that much is clear. The door is locked, but the hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end. Without a second thought, he tucks his overnight bag just inside the front door and silently closes it behind him - surveying the strewn clothes and shoes. Sam, he'd know the jacket hanging off the coffee table anywhere, pants - a wrinkled pool on the floor. One female, tacky shoes - worn to death by the looks of it. Skimpy dress, but comfortable looking - so probably not a pro. But it was Sam, can't rule anything out. He smiles and draws his weapon, finger caressing the trigger guard as he makes a silent beeline for the bedroom.
He pauses just outside the door for a long moment, listening for the telltale signs that the party wasn't over yet, but only heard slow and shallow breathing - mostly asleep but not for long. With a smile, he opens the door and lowers the gun right at his friend - eyes glancing over his blonde companion. "Morning."
Sam then wakes with a start as Clem screams as he looks around "What the hell Clem is going on" he then rubs his face slowly and then sees Mikey as a grin breaks out on his face.
"They're always a threat, Sam. What do you even know about her?" He narrows his eyes, looking away at nothing in particular. "Do I even want to know how much she knows?"
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He pauses just outside the door for a long moment, listening for the telltale signs that the party wasn't over yet, but only heard slow and shallow breathing - mostly asleep but not for long. With a smile, he opens the door and lowers the gun right at his friend - eyes glancing over his blonde companion. "Morning."
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Screams.
Loud and long.
Damn it, why is her service revolver ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE ROOM?
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"Hey Mikey, you're home."
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He scans the room, taking note that everything is mostly where it should be - not that he really has much to mess with. "You're in my bed."
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"Let me have it."
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"Is there a point in it?" He asks in serious tone.
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