fingers rub his eyes, huff escapes him while he hums lightly to himself. exhausted —— another torn shirt.

ah———? hn, the.. shirt might be nice, if he’s offering. one he’s willing to give up, at least.

he’s been taking on more occult cases lately. his.. ailment draws him too them. sniffs them out, and suddenly he’s down a dark alley—— staring at a man’s body, ripped in half under a pentagram. he hates his life. all of this.