Conversation · Jean Vicquemare

Your moves on the church floor -- which -- let's be honest -- were mostly jump aerobics.

Your posture. The constant stretches... The disco star aspirations.

The collection of FALN sportswear I've amassed...

How I can run for five hours a day...

"A special forces gym teacher?"

"No," he remarks dryly, "a regular one."

She's avoiding your gaze.

"But before..."

"Before you were a cop, you were a gym teacher in Couron." She looks around. "It's getting really cold outside. Should we maybe..."

"Well -- now you're a cop," he pauses, "or... not anymore, so I guess you're a gym teacher again."

"The phasmid -- I need to tell Lena about this ASAP."

"Who is Lena?"

She lives at 1113 Tabernacle Road, in Jamrock. Remember?

"No one. Forget it."

"Already did. Let's go?"

"A cryptozoologist. She lives in Jamrock, on Tabernacle road. She told me about this phasmid."

"Tabernacle? It's on the way over. Near where you live, on Perdition..." She looks at Vicquemare.

"Fine. If we're gonna drop you off anyway."

"She and her husband were conducting the search for the phasmid. It's their discovery -- in part."

"They should know as soon as possible. It would do you good to deliver some positive news for a change."

She is going to be over the moon.

Watch out or she'll faint.

She is going to be over the moon. It will do you good to deliver some good news to someone for a change.

"Well, good luck finding her once we get back."

"Well, you can do that in all the spare time you're going to have."

"Jean..." She stops.

"She's a cryptozoologist. She told me about this phasmid..."

She listens to you sadly. The wind blows.

"Cuno -- what will you do now?"

"Fuck do you think? Gonna rock that law enforcement shit with you guys -- Detective Cuno." He chews on a piece of imaginary chewing gum. "Like you promised."

"Like you... promised?"

"Yeah... no. You're staying here, Cuno. You're too young."

"THE FUCK?!" He spreads his arms. "Cuno's been seen with you, out in the open. He's free game right now. Singin' to the popophone. Fuckin' informant shit. Got pig all over me -- smoked pig."

"You're what? Ten? Eleven?"

"Cuno's fuckin' nineteen."

"You have to be fifteen for the junior officer program -- and you are not."

"Hey, f***t! Understand this -- they're gonna hang me by the nuts if you leave me here. You want that on you? A dead kid? Or you want the Cuno at your station, solving shit? Like we just* did?"

His hands are shaking and his face is white.

He's genuinely scared of being left behind.

It's not the locals he's worried about -- but an eleven year old girl.

(Lower your voice.) "Jean, he has nothing."

"I know a hundred kids with nothing, Harry. We can't make them all cops."

"You don't have to make them cops -- only Cuno. Cuno's an asset."

"Jean. I want Cuno at our station, solving this shit."

"He can't be a cop, Harry. He's twelve. And he says 'f****t' every four seconds."

"I won't say it! I won't say it anymore."

His teeth are clenched and his throat moves in a gulping motion.

"Maybe you can take the kid with you," the special consultant says, looking at the boy. "Enrol him a year earlier and say he's fourteen. If he..."

"I promise I won't say it." He shakes his head so hard his face turns red. "I won't say any of it anymore."

Detective Kuuno de Ruyter.

"For god's sake..." She sighs. "Yes, we'll do it."

Another sigh -- of surrender.

"He can't be a cop, Harry. He's a child. A child who says 'f****t' every four seconds."

"His dad's in a coma and his only friend is gone."

"I don't care -- he can't be a cop. He's twelve. And says 'f****t' every four seconds."

"I don't care -- he can't be a cop. He's just a kid. A kid who says 'f****t' every four seconds."

"He was good. On the island. He can do this."

"I'm sorry. We just can't. It's not possible."

"Not POSSIBLE is me staying here. Fucking understand that. I'm not dying here, f****t. I'm coming with you."

"You can't be a cop. You're twelve. And you say 'f****t' every four seconds."