"Hmm-hmm-hmm..." She's still searching for a book, her eyes wandering over the colourful…

"Hmm-hmm-hmm..." She's still searching for a book, her eyes wandering over the colourful grid of softcovers.

"Let's talk about your husband again."

"Right. What about him?" Her face becomes anxious again.

"I think I got it, thanks." (Proceed.)

She gives you a short nod, before returning to her books.

"So you are going to look for him?"

She genuinely wants you to, now. Don't make her ask.

"Yes, I will bring him back home to you." (Take the case.)

"Thank you!" You sense gratitude in her voice. "Please, do... Even though I'm sure he will return home by himself. I'm still sure of that."

She tries to maintain a brave front, even though her eyes reveal the opposite.

"I'm sure he will too. When he does, would you let Precinct 57 -- Kim Kitsuragi -- know." He gives her a slip of paper.

"I will. Of course, officer. As I said, it's probably nothing." The woman takes the slip of paper. It's a phone number.

"Sorry, we've got our hands full at the moment. Maybe some time later." (Don't take the case.)

"Yes. Right." A wave of despair sweeps over her face. "He wasn't missing anyway," she tries to say while struggling to maintain a courageous front, "I'm sure he'll be home."

It is clear from her voice that she is shattered.

"What does your husband look like?"

"Honestly, not that different from you." She eyes you from head to toe.

"Right -- we're dealing with a cop."

"No, no!" Her eyes widen at your misunderstanding. "He is definitely not a cop. I meant that he's a little chubby, that's all."

Wait! Did she just imply that you're fat? You're not fat! The body type she's referring to is called a Franconigerian hard-body.

"I'm not chubby and neither is your husband. What you meant to say is that we both share a Franconigerian hard-body."

"You both share what?" She doesn't understand.

"Franconigerian hard-body. Softly round, yet still in shape. Ladies dig it."

"I'm not sure about the rest, but softly round sounds about right. He's not in great shape." She stops to think.

"What else... He was wearing a dark brown leather jacket with a bright blue inner lining. The lining is hand-sewn, I made it myself." She sighs, her voice slightly quivering when she adds:

"It's his cool jacket. God knows it's too cold to run around in this, but he refuses to change."

Who cares about the cold when you have your cool jacket to wear? You can completely sympathize.

"I even tried throwing it away once, but he just dug it out of the bin. Can you believe it?" She looks back at you, shaking her head.

"Well, if that jacket is really that cool, then I can totally understand..."

"Well, what can you do... I hope that at least that extra lining helps him keep warm at night. I wouldn't like him to catch cold."

She's thinking about him out in the cold -- in some park or on the coast -- and it's making her more and more worried.

"He took it out of the bin? Wow. That's filthy."

"I see. What else?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, he's... slightly chubby."

"Like a late-stage alcoholic then."

"That's one way to put it, yes. No offence. I'd also add that he's a little bit chubby."

"So let me guess... he's disco?"

"Oh, thank god, no!" She nearly begins to laugh. "It hasn't come down to this yet."

Hold on! Did she just laugh at your disco pants? You're not going to leave it there, are you?

Technically speaking, your trousers could be considered part of your work gear. This means she has insulted the police.

"Wow, ma'am! Do we have a problem here?"

"What problem?"

"Do we have a problem with disco?"

"No, no..." she backs off, "my relationship with disco remains irrefutably healthy."

"What I was trying to say before is that he's a little bit chubby, that's all. I didn't mean anything offensive!"

"Do we have a problem with police?"

"Police? I don't follow." She narrows her eyes, trying to understand.

"What does anything I said have to do with police? Or is Police some kind of disco phenomenon as well?"

"Yes, I make disco become a police thing -- and you have just insulted my style."

"Oh, no! That's not what I meant!" She takes a step back.

"No. But I am an officer of the law and you have just insulted my work uniform."

"Why did you say that your husband resembles me then?"

Hold on! Did she just laugh at disco? You're not going to leave it there, are you?

"When did you last see him?"

"Yesterday morning. He went to the library." Her eyes become cold with recollection. "He went to retrieve my book and he promised, he promised he'd walk straight back home."

"Because we talked about this. We talked about not wandering off again!" She scoffs. "I don't know what to do! I honestly don't know what to do with his addiction... It just makes me feel weak."

Gone for around 36 hours then? Damn, this is a missing persons case.

She turns away from you in an attempt to recover.

"Maybe your children are missing?"