As soon as his sleep-deprived mind registered that he wasn't alone, he flinched hard enough to send his chair askew, but was prevented from falling to the floor by the stranger – who wasn't actually a stranger, he realized as his eyes adjusted to his rude awakening. Jackie grinned, bloody teeth and all, in response to the sleepy glare he was receiving.
“Good morning,” he whispered, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed despite the ungodly hour.
“Halt deinen Mund,” the German grumbled after glancing at the glowing numbers of the digital alarm clock on his desk. “It's three in the morning.” He only had about four hours of sleep under his belt. “Why?”
- Part 1 of The Game
A gunshot rang out, breaking the usual nighttime cacophony of car engines and TVs muted by windows. Henrik wouldn't have been so on edge – unfortunately, it wasn't an unusual sound to hear so late in the day – if it weren't for the volume and, subsequently, proximity of the noise. Out of the shadows about five feet from his frozen body stumbled a man with greasy hair and an altogether shady look. He barely spared the doctor a glance as he bolted in the opposite direction, perhaps being a first time offender, and Schneeplestein didn't even wait for the assailant to disappear into the night before sprinting forward and locating the alley the man came from.
- Part 2 of The Game