Kaleb sat up at the bar, staring down into one more endless vodka shot, his gun was showing letting everyone know what he was, or as he thought what he used to be, a Rogue cop from streets of Ipswich turned into a straight law abiding cop in London, then a transferred FBI agent moved to New York, who was eventually told he needed a rest a mini vacation, to LA. He did as was told and flew himself to here. Now spending each night getting deeper into the bottom of the bottle.
On vacation what was it supposed to mean???
He looked up his blood shot eyes staring through the mirror past his sallow skin into what was left of his soul, it wasn't nice seeming most of it had turned into alcohol. He stood up his sheathed katana sticking to his thigh, he re-holstered his gun. Which was soaked underneath from the beer, he wiped it quickly on a disgruntled man before putting it away.
He smacked a 20 dollar note onto the table, which was clearly not enough and left for his room, to try and sleep through yet another sleepless night...