in cracked porcelain tiles

But instead he was here, having coaxed his company into the passenger seat of his very own car and driven him home, hanging off his shoulder as they made it to the front door. He was here, having assured a tireless Trucy that her father was just a bit under the weather, but well taken care of, only to turn afterward and find him crawling on the floor like the cockroach that he was. And he was here. On the dirty bathroom floor. Spectating as a man spewed his guts out for so long now that he had lost track of the time. It would be a better use of his time to hold Wright’s head under the water until every sound scraping at his ears finally stopped. What a shame.The line of keeping one’s enemy close has long since begun to blur. It isn’t until one drunken night that Kristoph Gavin faces that sobering fact.