For the most part Cameron had still been in his funk, showing no signs of shaking it off yet, when he'd finally caved. He'd been wandering down a quiet street, no-one else around, trying to get his head straight and achieving something a lot more like self-pity when he spotted a top-of-the-line Mercedes barely more than a year old with less security on it than there should have been.
He had gloves in his pockets. He'd taken to carrying his old kit with him lately.
He'd been driving away in it less than three minutes later.
He'd barely gotten four blocks when the guilt had kicked in. Barely five and he'd headed back, parked it up and snuck away. There was little damage, it was possible the owner wouldn't notice.
When he was far enough away he'd picked himself up a six pack and then headed for the beach, sitting alone in the dark on the sand and not getting hammered, slowly working through the first beer and staring out at the water.
He really had to fucking snap out of this.
It was a long while before he heard anyone else - beer two barely opened - and he didn't look to see who it was, pulling a bottle from the pack and holding it out toward them, "Wanna join?"