Andrew walked briskly as soon as he stepped out of the car that had picked him up from the hospital. As if he had no intention of wasting even a second, he immediately unlocked the door and entered the house, the key having already been given to him beforehand. He acted like he was in his own place, even though, in reality, it was his friend’s house—the same friend who had picked him up the moment Andrew called to say he had just returned from God knows where.
“Colonel Stalon, you want a beer?” the owner of the house offered, popping open his fridge.
Andrew pinched the bridge of his nose, torn between temptation and the sheer absurdity of the offer.
“I literally just got a bag of IV fluids pumped into me, and now you’re offering me a beer? Real smart, man,” Andrew grumbled. Deep down, h
