Danny

Bond had sat in his car watching the building. He'd been watching for some time now and he knew Danny's habits. When he was home, for how long, when he left, where he went, and he'd even learned to tell how long he might have by how the man dressed. He'd go out dressed neatly, hair combed and face shaven. Job interviews. He'd go out at night in a casual shirt and a second hand jacket he didn't mind losing. Clubbing. Sometimes he dressed nicely but casually and on those nights he'd followed him to Hex's house. So he knew he'd have the night. Of course he knew Hex's schedule. That bloke was predictable.

And so Danny went out for the night and Bond made his move. He broke into the flat, well aware that the flatmate was at her boyfriend's house, likely high and fucking by now. THat gave Bond plenty of time to stage the flat.

He tipped over a table and scooted a chair. He dropped a shoe he'd brought and then some distance later he dropped another. A shirt tossed to the side. Trousers left puddled in the hall. And atDanny's bedroom doorway a pair of pants with anonymous DNA staining the crotch. He tussled the bed and smashed the pillows and then he waited in the shadows. Danny would be home soone enough.

Bond just hoped this wouldn't implicate Hex in this staged sex crime. He'd feel a bit bad if that happened.