"Why the hell do you keep calling me? Haven't you seen [i]The Wire[/i]?" Cooper screamed into his phone. "Cops, if you're listening, I don't know who the hell this dork is, alright? And I sure as hell don't know Maria Todd! Never met her! Don't know what she looks like! Didn't sell her a teenth last night!" In a near panic, Cooper threw the phone onto his unmade bed, before snatching it back up and holding it to his ear. "Thanks for calling! Bye!"

Hanging up, Harley took a deep breath and looked around the upstairs bedroom, trying to work out his next move, if there was a next move. Whoever that guy who had called had told him that everyone was saying Maria Todd had been murdered to death. A lot of rumors and hearsay, but enough to make Cooper Harley incredibly paranoid. Not that his substance abuse problem was helping with the paranoia, but who's keeping track.

"People are dying. I've gotta protect myself," he said as he turned over his mattress. He was pretty sure it was still down there, though in this house it was hard to tell. Did he even own a gun? He couldn't remember. Probably not.

Oh, there was his gun. Cooper grinned, brushing aside a lock of his unruly hair as he picked up the AMT Backup and slammed home a magazine. Six rounds of .380. He'd be fine now if somebody decided he was next on the list. "I feel safer already," he said to himself as he slipped the pistol into his waistband right behind his belt buckle. He stretched, decided to light up again. A little crystal would take the edge off.