[center][h1][color=cyan]Derek Sloan: Paradise Lost[/color][/h1][/center]

[color=lime]"Damn fine coffee! And a damn good cherry pie!"[/color] exclaimed Derek. The coffee itself was still much too hot to drink safely but with even a tiny sip he could still taste its strength. He could still smell its aroma. It was all so very intoxicating.

"Just the way you like it sweetie. Give me a holler if you need anythin else ok sugar." offered Lashanda with that vivacious smile of hers.

[color=lime]"Lashanda baby if I need anything then you'll be the first to know. And that's a promise."[/color] responded Derek with a  cheeky wink.

"Oh Derek, you smooth talker you." said Lashanda before walking away to attend to the other diners.

Derek grinned smugly to himself. He watched as Lashandas large round ass swayed to and fro as she walked. That was always a good sign. She was a doll but Derek saw her more as a kindly aunt than a girlfriend. No doubt she was old and experienced enough to have figured that out for herself. But to them both it was just a fun but rather silly little game amongst friends. The diner itself was always busy around lunch time. With all the busy people of the world lining up to get Maxines cinnamon Colombian roast blend. The line was so long that it extended out of the door and into the street. Derek wasn't kidding when he said that it was damn fine coffee. Maxines Diner had the best coffee in the neighbourhood as far as the locals were concerned. The stereotypical 50's diner itself always had a welcoming and non-threatening vibe that garnered itself a loyal clientele. Filled with red padded booth seats, a black and white checkered laminate floor, an art deco style bar, and a juke box, it truly captured the 50's feel.

Despite everything that had happened thus far, it seemed that Derek was still able to maintain his spirits. To keep his head above water so to speak. Bringing charm and levity into the environment was always a smart move. The less tension there was in the air the less likely anyone was going to act the fool and do something regretful. More times than he could count the only thing that spared him from a dire situation was a well placed word or two. For truly, words have killed and saved far more people in the world than any weapon. The great thing about words was that unlike weapons, one can practice with and utilise words in almost any situation. To be a gruff and edgy loner was all well and good for some but it afforded little to no opportunity to practice the art of the spoken word. Derek himself was as big of a loner as one can get but nevertheless, he still made an effort to exchange pleasantries and ideas with most of the people he encountered in his everyday life. Such practices instinctively drew people closer to him. For Derek that was the part of the process that lacked appeal. It wasn't that he hated people like a misanthrope, it was that deep within him lay a darkness that he wished not to expose to others. Even before the incident there was something there. Something deep and unknowable yet looming and ever present. Some may call it depression. The veterans at the local precinct however simply called it "being a cop". Derek know though that it was something else entirely. Something that originated in his past that continued to elude his memory.

Dereks introspective brooding was interrupted by the vibration of his smart phone in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. It said that it was the DPD. Derek was slightly taken aback. He still had a few more weeks of psychiatric evaluation left before he had to return to work. Derek couldn't help but feel concerned yet a little peeved at the same time.

[color=lime]"A hoy hoy."[/color] said Derek as he answered his phone.