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Summary
The weather conditions weren’t the most appropriate for him to be standing outside of the relatively small building, cooped up in a dingy little alley with a scent of garbage hard to turn his nose from. Covering the cigarette with his palm, shakily trying to give it a light, proved difficult in the British winter, relying solely on the edge of the building’s roof to provide any shelter in the violent downpour. If he had to give a rough estimate, it had been around 30 minutes of standing in shitty weather, waiting like a dog. Had he been aware that this is what detective work had in store for him, he would’ve sought out a career a little less taxing on his time (and health, considering he’d likely be nursing a flu by the week next). Brought here on a case– a case that had been rather unsuccessful thus far, mind you– he was desperate for any chance to dig into new information. Even if that included attempting to pry into the mind of one of the most pretentious, insufferable men he’d had the misfortune of crossing paths with.