He hears the doors to the main office open and close; a glance up shows him that Chris just left. His gaze flicks back down to the form. Right. Yeah. Three lines should take care of that one.
‘You've got better things t'do than spend your time writing stuff down,' he tells her. ‘You're a real copper, unlike Pencil-Neck.'
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‘You've got better things t'do than spend your time writing stuff down,' he tells her. ‘You're a real copper, unlike Pencil-Neck.'