He had to let Miller's momentum carry them both forward, away from his apartment/jail, and into whatever hell might be waiting.
Even if it led to a bloody mess and terrible reviews, there was no going back now. He even felt a pride creeping in through his pores, enough to straighten his back and hold his head up high.
When Miller and Noir were back on the street, as the sickly man breathed in the cold night air, and examined the long shadows being cast by the streetlights, he began to look and feel younger, healthier.
After long years spent locked down, sick and ailing - an invalid by law, unable to go anywhere or say anything, he was finally free and healthy.įrank Miller had suddenly kicked down the door, pulled Comics Noir roughly out of bed, tossed him a new suit, and slapped him hard when he started to whine.
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