'Well,' she hums, acutely aware of the heat of his body through the thin knit fabric of her shirt. 'It's not really the future for me. I mean, we have computers that play more than pong. All of the files that -- we'd shuffle around in CID would be online, available with a few keystrokes.' Her thoughts skim over the memory of Shaz going to and fro to the archives, her headphones in place and that grin as she listens to the new romantics. It's a happy memory. She tries to hold onto that.

'We have the Internet, which is incredibly useful. You don't know something, you can look it up. And smartphones, they're hard to live without once you start getting used to them. Virtually everything you can do on a computer, you can do on a smartphone.'

'Hmmm, what else?'

Her knee slips over his thigh, her toe twirling in the sheets as she thinks. Something that's not work-related. She frowns a little.

'Footie doesn't have the terraces anymore. You have to have a ticket for every seat.'

That may not be a happy thought for him, but he did ask.