An Inconvenient Truth
So I’ve been struggling to tell the story of how Cass ended up in hospital. This was not because it was a particularly complicated story, but because it’s pretty darn tricky to tell a story like that without giving too much away.
And I really didn’t want to give too much away.
But yesterday a colleague and I received a disciplinary roasting the likes of which would have given every demon I’ve ever clashed swords with reason to throw a party. Afterwards I found myself wanting to write about it, but couldn’t – not without giving myself away.
Now I find myself feeling so guilty that I think I probably should.
You see, I was dragged over the hot coals, not because I failed to fill out form 23B properly (which I did, fail to), not because I was caught outside wearing non-departmental issue clothing, (again, guilty) but because I needlessly endangered the life of a client.
You see, we couldn’t find a member of the gang with morals, and the inclination to break into a house looking for drugs. Instead, we did it ourselves. Which meant it was me who almost killed Cass with my complete incompetence. It would have been only the second time we directly caused the death of a client in a several thousand-year history. All this explains the astonishing thoroughness with which my boss tore me a new one yesterday.
Not least, because it was me the last time as well.