The Drug

Ning stood up and turned around to leave, but as he did, he ended up hitting someone who was coming his way. His tea spilled all over the other person's pants, dirtying his clothes.

"What the fuck!" the man cried out. "You ba—"

"I'm so sorry," Ning said quickly, bringing out a handkerchief from his pockets to dab around the man's legs where he had spilled the tea.

"Are you alright? You aren't burned, are you?" Ning asked the man.

The man in front of Ning was someone in his early 30s, with a rough cut bear and slightly long hair that came to his earlobes. His face was slightly long with a three-spot birthmark near his left eye.

He wore decent clothes, making him appear better than the average person who walked these streets.

The man looked at Ning, his eyes carefully checking for his badge before speaking. He had already seen the uniform, which had caused him to stop speaking, but now he needed to know what rank Ning was.