He didnt respond at first, but when Rachel reached out and nudged his shoulder, his head lobbed over to the other side. His eyes fluttered open for a moment and when he saw Rachel, he backed harder against the car. His eyes grew wide as he took in his surroundings.

Sir, are you…?

He didnt exactly strike out at her, but he made a pushing gesture that nearly connected. It was so unexpected that Rachel stepped back, but it wasnt enough space to miss the reek of alcohol coming off of him as he let out a shout of surprise. By just the way he stumbled and then broke into a run as if his limbs were made of rubber, Rachel could tell the man was disorientedprobably still drunk from the night before. And as this realization settled in, she thought of what Joseph Quinns neighbor had said about him stumbling home at ungodly hours and shouting at his door. She knew it wasnt a guarantee that the man currently starting to run away from her was Joseph Quinn, but she thought the chances might be pretty good. There had been pictures of Quinn with the articles, but those pictures had been of a professional and well-kempt man. The man ambling away from her was clearly drunk and disheveled.

Rachel sprang up to her feet and chased after the man that might be Quinn. He wasnt very fast, ambling across the parking lot with drunken speed and cutting in the direction of the empty lot. When Rachel started running after him, she was more irritated than anything else. Chasing after a drunk man this early in the morning…sometimes the life of an FBI agent really could be borderline comical.

She caught up to him as he was about halfway through the vacant lot. Jack had caught on to what was happening and came rushing toward them as well. Rachel grabbed the man by his shoulder and spun him around. She intended to pull her badge and let him know that running from the FBI was not a smart move. Instead, the man fell to his knees, made a retching sound, and threw up. He narrowly avoided getting it on Rachels shoes. She leaped back, finding herself uncharacteristically angry and having to restrain herself from kicking out at him.

Jack apparently found the puking slightly offensive. He stepped between them with a sour look on his face, maybe sensing Rachels desire to kick him. Whats your name, sir? Jack asked.

The man spit out the remnants of vomit form his mouth and wiped his lips on his forearm. He chuckled nervously as he looked around the lot. Rachel could see understanding and clarity slowly come swimming into his eyes. Shit, he said. Not the best way to meet someone, is it?

Your name, sir, Jack said.