Swayze Does... You Decide

I want to write some slashfic involving Patrick Swayze and a Livejournal friend.

Look at my userinfo and choose one of my Livejournal friends to participate in the story. I will use the first name suggested in the comments section of this post.

C.S.I. Mile End, Episode 2

Tonight, another crime scene on Grove Road. This time, Kevin and I witnessed it.

We were walking home after watching GlassBody, when we heard a man on the other side of the road shouting angrily. He was clearly drunk -- stumbling and slurring his words -- and he carried a bag of chips. He crossed the road in our direction; we walked a little faster. An old man, also drunk and with a bag of chips, was not too far behind.

Behind them, more shouting; behind us, police sirens. Two men ran into the road, gesturing wildly at the approaching police car, screaming and pointing at the two drunks carrying the bags of chips. The police car slowed down; the officer in the passenger seat jumped out and raced after the drunks while the car did a U-turn and followed suit. A few steps away, outside Britannia Fish and Chippie Shop (scene of the last crime on Grove Road), a police car was parked in front of a number 277 bus. A police woman was inside, interviewing the driver, while another crossed the road and hurried down the street by The Victoria pub (to probably cut into the drunks' path, in case they were running). The people in the bus looked mighty pissed off.

I stopped and stared like any person reared on crime TV shows. When I looked for Kevin, he was up the road, clearly intent on getting away from the action as fast as possible. I was suddenly aware of our different tolerance to city crime: I grew up in one of the most violent cities in the world, São Paulo, used to this sort of stuff; whereas he grew up in a peaceful farm outside Ottawa, in the possibly safest country in the world, Canada. I should learn from him: one day, I'll get a bullet in the forehead and go to my grave with a gawking expression on my face.