[center][h1][color=8882be]Ashley Gallagher[/color][/h1][/center]
[center][h2][color=8882be]Afternoon - Outside of the Police Station[/color][/h2][/center]

"So uh, Ashley, buddy," Smith had something akin to bemusement written all over his face. Like a child, wanting in on the joke. "You kind of left me hanging there, you know? Storming out of the crime scene with a grin like a modern Sherlock Holmes."

"I didn't take you for the bookish type, Smith." Ashley began, speaking around puffs of his cigarette and gazing out over the road at the collection of cars puttering to and fro. "Or the metaphor type for that matter."

Smith shrugged, that charming grin returning to him. The boy was a heartbreaker, with those pretty eyes and that boyish smile. It was no surprise to Ashley that he had managed to settle down early with a beautiful wife and a steady career-- the pretty people always did find life a tad easier. "The Missus thinks its good for the mind, you know? You uh, you gonna tell me where you ran off to?"

Ashley splayed his hands in a mockery of exasperation. "Do I ever?"

"I suppose not." Smith lit his own cigarette, tapping it gently against the side of his finger to shed some of the excess ash from the tip. "You always were a dick."

“You’re breaking my heart, Smith. Here I thought I was a charmer.”

“The Missus is out for the night, drinking with the girls, left Joey with a friend. I got nothing to do, you could make it up to me by buying me a drink, old man.”

“As riveting as that sounds, I have a prior engagement.”
	
“What, brooding over a whiskey alone?”

Ashley didn’t even honor that with a response, simply took a drag from his cigarette.
	
“Don’t think I don’t know about your little pouting sessions, Ashley. We’re practically married. I know when you’re ignoring me for another woman.”

“That woman being whiskey?”

“That woman being feeling sorry for yourself, Gallagher.”

“Yeah, well.” Ashley dropped the cigarette to the floor, flattening it with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Smith. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

[center][h2][color=9e0b0f]Evening - A Brooklyn Home[/color][/h2][/center]

“Come on Gallagher, pick up.” 

Smith maintained the steadiness of his hand as he spun the phone dial around, the abrasive noise cutting through the thick silence. He held his pistol up, ready. The phone rang, nothing. [i]Damn it, Ashley.[/i] He readied his gun, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach, the creak of floorboards, and dialed again.