Office of Nick Bartamian, Private Dick, The Arms Hotel Room 315, Saturday Afternoon

There was something to be said, Nick noted as he flipped through his notes on the case he'd been trying to get to the bottom of for the past several months, for criminals who left a neat and tidy paper trail for him to follow. They made his job so damn much easier, after all. Unfortunately for Nick, known as The Gorgon to anyone who had the misfortune of being on the wrong end of his investigations, the one that he was currently trying to track down was smarter than that.

Because of course she was. Leave it to Nick to try to bring in an opium queen with a brain in her head. He had a few leads, some more interesting than others, one of which had left his arm in a sling a couple weeks back in an attempt to dissuade him from the case, only making him more hell-bent on cracking it.

The Gorgon hated criminals. He hated cases that threatened to drag on until his bills were past due even more. But most of all, he hated that he couldn't get Dokkaebi and her damn opium empire off of Fandom's streets once and for all. What he needed right about now was a case. Something to put a few more dollars in his pocket, to tide him over until he had something concrete to work with, here.

Wouldn't THAT be the day.

[Open! With mild AFK warning for a little of the afternoon, because of course.]