The sliver of pain that rushed back into his mind as he cracked his crusted over brown eyes sent Dib into a jostle of groans and snapping joints, his hand lifting to slap against his wrinkled forehead to try and ease it, but only causing his migraine to come back in full force. He shifted, shoulders aching as he pushed a bottle off his lap, still dawning his military style boots and worn slacks, he couldn't help but try and remember just what happened the night prior.

It began to rush back to him, the dim lights and wobbling steps he took to stagger his way back into his shack of an apartment, and then his inevitable collapse atop the couch that stunk of cigarettes. He blinked, lazily his eyelids fell to a half-hooded look, as his eyes scanned the floor where his collection of beer bottles had begun to overflow. With a frustrated, groggy growl, he dragged himself to his feet, a few more joints snapping as he moved.

He was getting old.

He brushed the thought aside, shuffling through the cans and bottles until he reached his kitchen, unbuckled pants half sagging off his hips, a prominent bump of a beer belly beneath his dirty shirt peeking out. He ventured further until he reached his coffee pot atop the counter, having to push Styrofoam coffee cups out of the way in the process. He sunk against the table top, his arms splayed out and head resting beside it, before popping on the pot and relaxing.

This, just like other mornings, was Dib's regular routine, finding himself confused and in pain after a night of belligerent drinking, and nursing himself back to a ready state of mind. He scanned the room once again, this time, towards the walls spanning with articles and photos of evidence- "Psh- evidence- "He scoffed quietly, glaring at the coffee pot.

They weren't evidence, but dead ends he had researched so desperately the years prior. Nothing- always nothing, not a scrap of clothing, not an evil note. Dib's brows furrowed, his hand coming to scratch and itch at his hairy chin and cheeks, eyes shutting tightly as he slumped down to the floor. What was he doing to himself? Why did he drain himself out like this every day just to get further and further from what he needed?

Pop

The sound of the coffee pot finishing its heat up sounded into the air, and Dib slowly dragged himself back to his feet, adjusted his pants and poured himself a cup. Enough of his sulking, he had work to do.

"So, let me guess…" Came a teasing tone from Dirge, brow lifted incredulously at Dib as the other snapped out of his daydream, blinking and looking around with wild blue eyes. "You drank yourself into another coma." The chubbier of the two relaxed against the café's seat, reclining and lifting his feet to settle atop the table. The two were outside, among chattering and busy businessmen and women, obviously out of place. "I did not- "Dib began to argue, before grumbling and rubbing his hand over his face, propping his glasses up from beneath and rubbing his eyes. "Fine, yeah, does it really matter? Can we just get back to our job?" he murmured. Dirge rolled his eyes, reaching to pull back his rather large, industrial sized backpack, and digging through it. "Yeah, yeah, bigfoot or something."

Dib dropped his hand down his face from rubbing his eyes, resting it against his forehead instead and propping it up as he watched his companion dig through his bag. Dirge had come a long way since they were kids- that mysterious webbed fish toes kid was rather off putting, and always kept quiet about a lot of things. Dib hadn't even realized his intelligence until their high school years, and the two shared a science class or two. Incredibly, the claim of webbed fish toes was true, and Dib and his new friend had gone on to sneak their way into various skeptic and paranormal groups.

"Look, I know you're still wrapped up about that whole alien kid business you've been researching for…how long as it been?" Dirge quirked a brow again, thinking quietly to himself. "15? 17 years?"

"24." Dib interrupted.

Dirge whistled, shaking his head as he shifted to hunch over the table a bit, a folder in hand, his chubby finger pointing to the front. "Well, I think its about to pay off." He murmured, his voice dropping to a quiet tone as he tried to lean in close enough to Dib so that the other's surrounding them couldn't hear.

His interest was instantly peaked as Dirge whispered, quick to join him in hunching over the table and listening intently. "You found something?" He whispered, his voice almost caught in his throat, raw and groggy as he tried his best to be quiet.

"More than something. This is an article I found through one of my inside guys from The Swollen Eyeballs. It talks about some kid they investigated while cooperating with a testing facility dubbed Landsteine Co. They do animal testing, but- "Before Dirge could continue, Dib snagged the file from his hands and began to fly through its contents, sweat obviously beading atop his forehead, his breathing rough and shaking as he scanned each page.

"Ey, calm down! Its not going anywhere!" He whispered harshly, Dib shaking his head slowly as he read through each page. Some of the contents were blacked out, but he could make out a certain passage about a strange purple eyed child, and his involvement with the disappearance of various people through the city of Ontario. "Landsteine- "He repeated under his breath. "Does it have any date of when they found him?" Dib asked in a desperate tone, Dirge shrugging. "Most of it's blacked out. Hard to tell when they found him, or where. Listen, Dib- we should really get back to our- "Before his companion could reply, Dib was off his seat, his black coat dawning his slightly built frame flinging out behind him, scuttling to rush out of the café. "DUDE-!" Dirge shouted, "WHAT ABOUT BIGFOOT!?"

"I'll pay for the tab next time- Thanks Dirge!" He called back, rushing up to the bus stop and clambering on. Dirge grumbled, flopping back into his seat in an exasperated manner. "Yeah, whatever space boy."