[Two's all you need. Me and Kim are the same way. (Turn to Kim.)]
Kim and *I*... [the lieutenant mutters under his breath. He scribbles something in his notebook but adds nothing else.]

Detective, each of us has our part to play in the world. My part is to solve crimes. I am under no illusion that my role isn't a minor one, in the scheme of things... But I embrace it *because* it's my role, and it's yours too, detective, whether you accept it or not!

[The lieutenant watches you take the transceiver with barely disguised envy.]
[You jealous, Kim?]
Not at all, detective. A Kristallsprach is a fine piece of equipment, but I'm quite satisfied with my DynaWave.
[Oh, he's *totally* jealous. He can barely hold it in!]

[I could have done more.]
You did enough. [He pauses, rubbing his hands together to generate some heat.]
Can't save the whole world, you know?

Well, detective, it appears you've solved the case... [The lieutenant looks around, writes something in his notebook, and turns to you.] Of the locusts. For the missing locust case, which is a sub-case of the imaginary insect case. So at least *that's* going well.

[What's it packing there? (Point to the engine.)]
Hundred-and-thirty.
[That's what... (Rub your chin.) ... a seven-litre V12?]
Seven-point-two. Supercharged. [The lieutenant is trying to suppress a smug smile. Unsuccessfully.]
[Saying these words brings him immense joy.]

Good. Now that's done. When can we get to our impending apocalypse of a murder investigation?
[He stops you.] Don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question.

Do you remember how when we met Measurehead and I said the next racist will be the *really* good one? Well... [He gestures toward Gary as though he were presenting a work of art.] *This* is that racist.

Yes. And this 'mega-binoclard' knows how to sew a lapel and center a back vent.

Okay. I wanted to become an aerostatic pilot. Then I turned ten and realized we no longer have an air force.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some other matters to attend to. We'll meet again as usual in the morning. And detective... Don't fuck anything else up while I'm away.

Detective. [The lieutenant acknowledges you with a sharp note. He's leaving it to you.]
[Precinct 57th's finest scans the room, leaving the speaking to you: He trusts you -- maybe against his better judgement, but he does.]

[Stop. Let me approach it first.]
I won't be one of those fools who didn't take a picture... [He has stopped fiddling with the camera, but does not put it down.]
[(Whisper) Who cares what they *think* Kim.]
[He comes to, abruptly.] Understood. Of course, [he says with a nod.]

[Lieutenant, I'm gonna be honest for a moment: You look like shit.]
I disagree, [he says with a small nod.] In fact if we were to do a poll right now, a little 'who looks like shit'-poll, I'm fairly confident you'd come out on top.

It's good to have.... [His mouth twitches as he comes up with the expression:] ...an *ambidextrous para-detective* in a labour dispute. I can see why they sent you -- should we go?

Weightlifting was never my favourite, either. At the Station gym, I mean. I prefer running. It clears your head...

Oh, lord, not this again.
[What's the matter, Kim?]
Oh, nothing. It's just that we've got this *murder* to solve, and yet you go around asking everyone about *money*. And every time I ask, 'Are you sure this is related to the case?', you say, 'Sure, Kim. I think it is'...

Got any dope? We need some dope bad. I got the *Boogie Street* shakes.

[I could have done more.]
You did enough. [He pauses, rubbing his hands together to generate some heat.]
Can't save the whole world, you know?