"My father was the handyman.  I can do basic plumbing repairs, like I did when I replaced the kitchen faucet.  But electrical problems I'm not going to touch.  I've had some bad experiences with electricity."  Darius laughed, but he wasn't kidding.  The scream that had brought Jane to his room had come from his nightmare of Marco wiring him up and sending electricity through his body.<br/><br/>"Medicine versus crime reporter?  If you're uncomfortable with blood, then either profession is problematic.  The difference is that doctors don't usually face death themselves, unless in a disaster situation.  Crime reporters . . . . . . . the really good ones, stick their noses in dangerous places and put their lives in danger as a result.  When I was in the Army, the combat journalist had the shortest life expectancy on the battlefield.  That's because they carried microphones or cameras instead of rifles, yet they were always keen on getting as close to the action as possible.  War correspondents aren't all that different from crime reporters in that respect."<br/><br/>Darius wondered if he should have revealed his military past, but he figured it was safer than revealing his past as a cop.  There were so many men in this country that had been in the military fighting one war or another since 9/11 that it was common to have military experience on one's resume.  At least, more common than having cop experience.<br/><br/>"I'm not questioning your choice of professions, Jane.  I just hope you know how dangerous certain parts of this city are."  Darius winced after turning his back on her to pour another cup of coffee.  He was supposed to be promoting an image of a bad-ass lowlife.  Was he blowing his image by his words?  "Do you need your coffee refreshed?"