I don't see myself taking up flower arranging, Detective Ramirez. It might blow our cover to argue over who got to hold the door for who. Surprise, I said. I motioned at the thing on the table.
Though admittedly, with his totally shaved head, black jeans, and black boots with silver toes and heels, the leather jacket looked about the right speed. Neither Jean-Claude nor Richard are human. Seen what? I asked. I was wrong.
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