Flannagan was not expecting for a herd of idiots to have rounded the corner in such a fashion. A chill was in the air as a shiver ran laps up and down his spine, for the covers had been shoved off the mattress in which he slept on, leaving him half-dressed and curled into the fetal position.
He grunted, rolling onto one side to view the dimly lit alarm clock hanging off his dresser table. An unearthly hour to be causing such a ruckus, but it seemed they were drunk like a skunk as they shouted out to the world about something to do with someone's choice in underwear. Flannagan was annoyed that his sleep was interrupted, annoyed that people thought it right to deprive others of the given luxury of sleep.
A fickle beast.
Minutes passed by as they continued to loiter around his front door. His hand slowly reached out to grab his shoulder holster, in which his pistol was fully loaded and ready to be used. Certainly he was a lawbreaker, and was not above shooting a couple of drunks to get a couple more peaceful hour slumber. Flannagan had just swung his legs out of bed as a crash had been heard, followed by a rather large thud.
Adrenaline kicked in as he grabbed his holster, slinging it across both shoulders and pulling on his trousers, which lay waste around the room before heading quickly to the front door. It was open but there was no signs of forced entry and it was definitely no ghost that had caused the sound.
Flannagan headed out further, his head peering from the safety of his door frame as he surveyed the situation. On the street, he could just see the outline of a person, laying there.
Taking a couple of steps, it became clear that the person was not flat-out drunk and certainly not breathing.
"Jus' wha' I asked for. Jus' have to go ruinin' my sleepin' pattern, don't you?" Flannagan muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Look forwards into life, not backwards...otherwise you may find your face planted into the back of a lamp-post." -Flannagan