Conversation · Kim Kitsuragi

"Politics is habit-forming. And hazardous. It is also irrelevant to policework. You are right to doubt the impulse, it might be detrimental to our task here."

"With this little foreknowledge I am unsure which side to grind into pigsfeed. The decision must ferment in me. Also -- nationalism."

You sense that there's more to it than the lieutenant lets on, but the politics of the issue are too complex for your fragile mind to grasp right now. Maybe try again when you have more facts?

"White male in his forties -- what more do you need?"

"I'm relieved that you agree," he says, then pauses.

He is glad and surprised to see an officer who can appreciate the less-than spectacular.

"Is there anything else? You look like you were about to say something."

"Do you know the feeling when you've begun filling in a crossword but some of your answers don't quite seem to fit? That's the feeling I have right now, for some reason..."

"What is a crossword?"

"Ah, right. Your condition. Nevermind. All I mean to say is that we have a puzzle on our hands, but not all the pieces... yet."

"I know exactly what you mean."

"It will turn into quite the puzzle yet, I'm afraid..." The lieutenant nods.

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Hmm, perhaps you're a more proficient cruciverbalist than I am. All I mean to say is that we have a puzzle on our hands, but not all the pieces... yet."

"Anyhow, let's get back to the case. Was there anything else you wanted to know?"

Why did the 41st send me?

Look at you -- it's because you're a failure. They sent you to slight Precinct 57.

What, no. That can't be right.

Just think about it for a second. You're a raging alcoholic who showed up three days late wearing piss-stained disco garb. You weren't sent here to win.

"Kim, what if my precinct sent me on this case because I'm a fuck up? Like... as a joke."

"I've considered it." His voice is sombre.

"So it's true."

"It would be immensely ugly of them, not to mention unprofessional.... But I also think it's somewhat unlikely."

"Why's that?"

"I checked the records. This jurisdiction dispute -- who polices Martinaise -- reaches back to the Thirties. It's as old as my station. And all this time we can't decide who gets Martinaise? I think, yes, both stations would prefer a win."

"Ha, so you are their finest."

"I am the finest of nothing."

"Do you really see me as a safe bet?"

"Safe? No. But you're old. You've made it this far. Something has brought you through. We've only just started working together, so I don't know what it is yet. But it's there."

"So no, I don't think they sent you as a joke. And even if they did, they are in for a surprise."

He's right. There are no airtight theories, just paranoia. You've given it some thought, now let it go.

"Safe? No. But you're old. You've made it this far. Something has brought you through. I haven't worked with you yet, so I don't know what it is. But it's there."

"But it's not true, right?"

"I don't think I can say one way or another. I do think it's somewhat unlikely, though."

Keep it to yourself.

Of course, it's only a theory.

Whatever their reasoning, there's nothing written that says you have to prove them right.

Yeah, that makes more sense than the other stuff I thought of.

You pick over what's left of your frontal cortex, but no compelling explanations emerge...

Because you're the best qualified? No, that doesn't seem right...

No, that makes sense! I'm exceedingly qualified!

If you're so well qualified, why can't you remember why you were sent? Anyway -- don't keep the lieutenant waiting.

Dumb brain, I'm good for nothing.

You look dumb if you keep the lieutenant waiting for too long.

"Tell me about the case."

"You seem to be following me."

"Excuse me?"

"Beat it. You're cramping my style."

"Frankly, detective, you're in a deranged state. I can't let you proceed without close supervision. In fact, under normal circumstances I'd be duty-bound to report you. Take it as a token of good faith between our precincts that I haven't done so."

The lieutenant thinks you're some unaccountable wreck who needs constant supervision, but you don't have to listen to him. You're free to disobey.

"But what if I need some me time?"

"Some you time?" The lieutenant considers this a moment. "This is a police investigation, not a journey of self-discovery. You'll still have your evenings to yourself."

"Okay, I'll leave the self-care for non-work hours."

"Please do," he says. "We wouldn't want your regimen to spill over into the investigation."

The lieutenant is pretty sure self-care is just a euphemism for nihilistic binge-drinking.

Is it not?

"Sounds good."

"On second thought, maybe I need someone to cramp my style every now and then..."

"You might," he nods. "It's important not to let one's style interfere with their work."

The lieutenant is pretty sure style is just a euphemism for nihilistic binge-drinking.