It had been... a long night. A long series of nights – had it been nights? Any amount of time that he spent babysitting Sansa Martin felt like an age to Ewan Dunsirn. Everything blended into one long whine. He'd been hoping to come back to the apartment he shared with his cousin, Liam, for a bit of peace – but the obnoxious sound of canned television laughter coming from the lounge dispelled all hope of that.

Pacing into the lounge, Ewan froze with one hand half-way to returning his smart-phone to the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He could smell it before he saw it.

Directly in front of him, there was a body lying on the couch; a body with a rolling pin sticking out of its chest. Gabriel Rodermark. His empty eyes stared out at the flickering screen of the wall mounted wide-screen TV that Liam - sprawled across an armchair like a heap of discarded laundry - was watching.

“For fucks-”

Lips pursed as he bit back his words, Ewan pushed one hand back through his hair.

“Liam. I told you to put him somewhere discreet, not toss him across the couch like a fuckin' throw rug.”