<div class="floatright">(http://i55.tinypic.com/r0b6e8.jpg)</div>Michael waited in the elevator holding the last box of his stuff he'd brought with him to stay with Caroline and Kat. He'd been friends with the both of them since their freshman year of college at NYU. He had gotten a degree in sociology and could have gone on to do federal work with the FBI or something like that, but when he found out there was no guarantees that he would be assigned to New York, his home town, he decided to simply apply to the NYPD. In the two years he'd been there he was quickly climbing the ladder so to speak. He had impressed the right people when he had done a simple traffic stop that had led to the capture of a murderer who had been wanted for quite a while. Unbeknownst to Mike at the time, the guy had shot the son of a friend of the mayor's during a botched mugging. It was only a month before he had his detective's badge.<br/><br/>Working in the city had allowed him to stay in contact with Kat and Caroline whom he had met in an entry level sociology class. They had never said a word to each other until the professor put them in a group together to do a presentation on how the Irish became white. They had turned out to all have the same inappropriate sense of humor cracking off jokes and saying things that would have sounded horrible in any other context if only they hadn't been loopy from lack of sleep and not studying racism. It was then that Mike knew he could hang out with them. Sure they were hot but he had been dating at the time and by the time he'd ended up single again, all three of them were too busy with their new careers to do anything like date. Despite being busy they did a lot together. Be it a drinking night, or a movie, or a concert, they all made it a point to hang out regularly.<br/><br/>When he had gotten the notice that his apartment building was being renovated he passed on the hotel room and called Kat and Caroline who had been living together since right after graduation. Staying with them sounded like a lot of fun plus it put him a little closer to his precinct. When the elevator doors opened he stepped past a sweet little old lady whom he had only been half paying attention to. All he had caught was that her name was Mrs. Pringle, that she was a widow, and that her life was now dedicated to the yappity little dog she had with her. She got off on the same floor and he managed to say a goodbye before getting to the door to his new home for the next month or so.<br/><br/>"Honey's I'm home!" he called playfully as he carried in the last box, sitting it next to the others that were neatly piled up by the couch, aka his new bed. He plopped down onto the couch and loosened his tie and pulled his gun from the pancake holster on his belt setting it on the coffee table along with his badge. Letting out a deep sigh, he couldn't wait to have a beer.