Travis knocks back his fourth shot down his throat.
He is not going to get any sleep tonight despite the way his body is literally begging him to just lie down and rest.
To just close his eyes.
Pouring a half-full glass, he walks over to the glass wall behind his desk and looks at the view. It's 3 am again, the night looking as it was, but feeling different every single night.
He can't remember the last time he wasn't here in his office, the large room acting like a home to him, even though he had more comfortable apartments and penthouses around the city.
He can't remember the last time he went home and stayed there.
He usually goes there early in the morning to work out, change clothes, and then leave again.
It doesn't matter if he is here or at home; it all feels the same to him. lonely, too big. Too cold.
At least here, he can get some work done rather than fighting his demons and staring at the ceiling the whole night.
