The room reeked of cheap vodka. Light flooded in under tussled blinds, coloring the musty air until it hit at the clothes, scattered on the floor, meeting with the shadow cast by the undone bed.

The sound of squealing car tires and gunshots tore Ryan from sleep. A palm came up to rub the hangover from his face, stiff neck turning to the body that lay next to him. He rose from the bed, steadying himself on the creaking mattress and walked over to the window where his coffee maker taunted him.

He groaned, moving slowly to open the ground coffee beans, dumping the contents into the filter. Even the small beep that came from hitting the on button irritated him.

The sleeping figure turned over as he pulled the blinds up. Pouring himself a cup of something that was far too bitter to be considered coffee.

Outside, life continued. Children waited for the bus, clerks opened stores; people smiled. They laughed. No matter how many people Joe Carroll killed, people remained unaffected, unaware. Life went on. He may have been left with the memories on repeat, only to be blurred with constant replenishments of alcohol, but the people out there? They only knew what little they read in the paper, what was shown in the news and once the headline changed, people forgot. God, if only Ryan could forget.

Ryan's quiet little sojourn down memory lane was interrupted by a low yawn. He stiffened.

"Guhmorning." An involuntary shrug, Ryan gave a slight look over his shoulder, gaze still shifted away from the blonde haired, blue-eyed mess that sat on his bed. Lips pulled together, Ryan brought the cup to his lips.

"Nothing? Really?" Mike gave a light sigh, fingers gripping into the mattress. "So we're just gonna…what? Pretend this didn't happen." Eyes watched Ryan hopefully before scrunching his mouth to the side. A shake of the head and Mike was up, grabbing pants and kicking legs through them, feverishly searching for the white work tee they'd lost somewhere between the drinks, door and the bed.

Ryan watched him in the reflection of the window, eyes squinting through the sunlight that now rested high in the skyline. Mike was looking for an explanation, and Ryan didn't have one. He couldn't think about what last night was. Joe needed to be his priority and admittedly he was slipping.

Mike started, lips parting but drew them closed, jaw clenched, and headed out the door.

Ryan only turned after the door had slammed, left corner of his mouth drawing upward. "See ya at work, Mike."