The room was dim and hazy from my long neglected smoke, the uneven orange ember giving birth to tall silvery wisps that danced seductively in the light. I was able to make out tears in her eyes and it wasn't long after that she collapsed into the chair, hunched over like she took a knife to the gut. Her hands clenched into tight fists held against her face.

I did what I knew best and grabbed the second glass from my drawer, the light briefly reflecting off the black sheen of my revolver. The glass was full a few seconds later, but she hardly took notice. Here and there I'd catch words through her sobs. Her eyes caught mine, giant pools of blue that could make the ocean jealous. The name "Jimmy" slid off her tongue before she folded back into herself. She was a mess. Well, at least we had a name. "Sweetheart, who's Jimmy?"