Getting all jazzed up wasn't Dalton's style. Give him a gun and a brown coat, preferably
made from a cow's ass and he was ready to go to work. Lack of sleep be damned. Grabbing a
slice of the room tempered pizza, he commenced to having his breakfast.
“You keep having these dreams,” Adam said. “Maybe you should look into becoming a
writer. I saw this fantastic piece on TV about-”