"Stop right there! Fired?" The Night Watcher froze. "Who did you hear that from? Why haven't I received any news?"
"You sit around like a beached old dog. If I didn't come looking for you, you could sit in front of a computer screen all by yourself for thirty straight days. Where exactly did you expect to get your news from?" Anjou glanced at the beer belly straining against the Night Watcher's yellowish-brown plaid shirt.
The Night Watcher looked down. The once-proud six-pack abs that he used to show off to bar girls when he was drunk had long since merged into one. The western-style rugged heartthrob of yesteryear was history; today, he was just a tacky middle-aged man who loved cowboy hats, his nerves and body numbed by pin-up posters and hard liquor. Such a life was comfortable enough... but if Anjou got fired, his comfortable life would be over!
Chapter 134