“It’s about fuckin’ time,” Brian cursed as he opens the door. “It’s two in the morning, Brian.” Carl argued. “I called you an hour ago!” He retorts, trying to stifle his fury. Walking in, Carl grumbles, “I was sleeping. That’s what normal people do,” Looking around the loft, he frowns, “What the fuck happened here?” “What does it look it? I was knocked out and someone trashed my place.” Pulling out a cigarette, he quickly lights it, “Some cops came by, but I didn’t trust them.” Carl arches his brow, “What do you mean?” He shrugs, “Just a feeling.” Carl scoffs, “You have feelings?” “Funny, real funny,” Brian smirks. Sighing, Carl sits down on the couch, “Well you might as well offer me a drink, Kinney.” Heading to the fridge, Brian pulls out two beers. Handing one to Carl, he sits down, “Whoever broke in here was looking for something.” Carl looks around, “They didn’t take anything?” “Not a fuckin’ thing.” Carl frowns, they were obviously in a rush because any idiot would have at least taken something to make it look like a burglary if they were actually just looking for something. “I think this has something to do with Justin.” Brian admits, the blood rushing to his ears as his says Justin’s name out loud. Carl is silent. “Taggert,” Brian hands Carl the man’s card, “said that a lot of people had their places vandalized recently, but I haven’t heard anything about that.” Carl’s frown deepens, “Neither have I,” he admits. He never liked Taggert. The man's partner, Sloan, was alright... a bit on the naive side, but otherwise an okay guy. Taggert however, made Carl’s skin crawl and he was never sure why. Brian glances around his loft, “They focused mostly on my desk…even tried to unlock my lap top.” Carl nods, getting up and looking at Brian’s desk, which was completely bare since everything was on the floor around it. “Fuck, this is a mess.” “No shit.” Joining him, Brian exhales slowly. “They were looking for information…. information about Justin.” “Brian,” Carl begins. “No, Carl,” he persists, “I know it.” “Another feeling?” “Shut up,” he narrows his eyes, “Fine, call it a fuckin’ feeling if you want,” rubbing his eyes, he continues, “What else could it be?” Carl shrugs, still staring at the mess, “I can try to get some prints out of this. Have you touched anything?” Brian shakes his head, “I was hoping you’d dust for prints.” “Great minds think alike, huh?” Carl says with a grin. Brian forces himself to smile back. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Carl, but he was worried about Justin’s safety. “You know what this means, Carl.” Carl, who was staring at the mess, looks back up at Brian, “What means?” “Justin and Molly are still alive.”