Casey

I walk through the door and smoke falls out from it, I sniff, Cuban. Growling lowly I pull my gun from underneath my pants. I quietly creep into the living room, where a lithe figure is blowing smoke rings…IN MY CHAIR.

"Who are you?"

The lights turn on.

"George, my name is George, Colonel Casey," the tiny girl smirks, "and you have something that belongs to me."