It was hot, so that your shirt stuck to your chest and your armpits smelled like they'd been napalmed. But not Jade Weapon's armpits. They were smooth, delicious and fragrant, and smelled of sex. 'Who's she shagging this time?' Proudfoot looked over the top of the book. Mulholland looked tired; older, she realised suddenly, than when they'd first started working together the previous year. Hadn't really noticed in the last couple of days. Lines on the face; not yet any grey hairs, but all in the eyes. They had seen too much. And in that moment, it also occurred to her that she saw the same thing when she looked in the mirror. They had both seen enough misery and death to fill anyone's boots, and unquestionably it was time to get out before they saw any more. A blinding flash of light, but perhaps it'd lead to nothing. She'd never just acted on these things. Usually blinding flashes of light were gone when you woke up the next morning. 'Oh, everyone,' she said. Mulholland smiled. Wearily; time to go.
