Politics

"No. That's not me anymore. I am the Cop of the Apocalypse now."

It's good we discussed your history with her, he thinks. I can play along.

"Hear that, Kim? I am a huge deal around here."

"I'm sorry I couldn't warn him in time."

I'm not forging anything. It's dishonourable. And illegal.

"There's honour in retrieving lost things."

"Don't get me wrong, but 'bare-bones' isn't usually my style." (Point at yourself.)

"I'm not sure it's appropriate for the RCM to accept free accommodations."

"I am an ill omen, alright." (Proceed.)

"Guy was cramping my style. Every superstar goes solo in the end."

Your hand twitches. A single bullet hidden from sight. Remember the way it slides into the barrel. The muzzle of the loaded weapon pointed at your heart -- it feels familiar, doesn't it?

"You got to be smart, read the fine print, think ahead, look for opportunities..."

(Nod.) "This could be the first chapter of my rags-to-riches memoir."

"Now this is real Revacholian hospitality. That Garte must be half-kipt or something."

"Unfortunate that incremental development hasn't elevated this neighbourhood yet. I see potential here."

"I'm afraid I can't comment -- Official police business."

"That's for me to know, and you to find out." (Wink at her.)

"It would help me stay in touch with the proletariat."