Lift’s out again, so that’s his evening ruined. His bastarding leg’s already aching something awful.

he does. hence the hesitation to do so.

dunno, he’s not been counting. och, not the worse way to go out though, innit. ( this is coming from someone who’s literally been blown up in a war zone. )

he’ll manage, he’s sure. ( probably going to have a brew instead, however. ) oh, he’s fine. was a few years ago now, but the scars make good stories. most of the time, at least.

he’s just referring to the office machine. he’s not spending any bloody money on it — five quid for a latte? get tae fuck. oh, aye? he could probably be talked into something.

relatable. dinnae fash, the super’s not gonna hear it from him.

och, good luck with that. he’s not known what that feels like, since. . . couldn’t say, actually. definitely before his daughter was born.

eyes are burning, but he’s got more sodding reports to write. send help.

both of which will disappear in the blink of an eye. cannae remember the last time he ate, and anything to help him stay awake.

it’s not like he did it by choice, he had shit that needed done, and the dci’s been riding him pretty hard. he did what he had to, yeah? she’s a fuckin’ star. he’ll boil the work kettle for her, if she tells him when she’s leaving.

eh, it’s not all bad. he’s used to long hours as it is. gotta get the job done, ( properly ). oh, aye — all zero of them he speaks to on a regular basis. he’s on it.

yaaawn. did he fall asleep at his desk? . . .perhaps.

will you catch him admitting it? definitely not.

he needs a million quid, too, but here he is. rent doesn’t pay for itself, darlin’.

does she know him at all? oh, aye? don’t threaten him with a good time.

for which he’ll always be grateful. this case is killing him, genuinely.

belated seductive sunday, or something.

ouch. cheers, pal.

he’d appreciate her not exaggerating it to make it sound like he does that three times a week.

right back at you, higgins.