"'ere we are, mac!" -the cabbie says, clicking over the meter- -Meyer hands over a $10 bill- Keep the change. "Jeez... cheers..."

-Meyer steps out from the cab and looks about, glancing at the sky-

I wonder if /he'll/ be here.

[Brennan walks towards the dockyard, looking about, turning around as the business of the day, the noise of the cranes resound about him]

I wish I had read a little history of this dockyard. -he nods-

I will do, once we're done here.

-walking by dockworkers, Brennan tried to imagine what this place must have been like during the Civil War-

-thinking to himself- First, second generation Norwegian, British... Melting pot of cultures.

-strolls through one of the vast canyons of crates, reaching for the disposable phone-

@BossMaroni -looks up- Sandy Hook? I believe that's west, hold on. -places the phone in other hand and gets his book on Gotham-

-swallows, blinking and looking up at @BossMaroni, confused as the taste of copper fills his mouth-

@BossMaroni -his legs fail as he staggers back, hitting one of the containers hard as his mind scrambles to understand what is happening-

-slides down into a seated position, a red smear trailing up the side of the container-

-he coughs, his lips and chin speckling with blood, which he tries to wipe away-

-swallowing- ... Harv... Harvey?

-he tries to adjust himself upwards, but his lower body fails to work, as he looks at the dark patches spreading out across his shirt-

-he whimpers, then bites his lip grabbing his book- Quick, quick, please... God...

-he opens the book and writes in it--his pen, a finger; his ink, his blood-

-he places the book beside him, resting his head back-

-he closes his eyes-