Chapter Text
Unknown number:
I think you owe me a drink.
Gail:
Who the hell is this?
Unknown number:
Some people, actually no, cats, call me Lunchbox.
Gail:
I left you at the morgue thirty minutes ago.
Unknown number:
Your point? Meow.
Gail:
You just made me spit my drink out all over my favourite sweater. And now the barman is laughing at me. Thanks.
Lunchbox:
That'll teach you for secretly putting your number into other peoples phones, "Officer Cranky Pants." Fitting.
Gail:
You're not people.
Lunchbox:
I am not sure what that means, but I am going to take it as a compliment.
Gail:
Take it however you like.
Lunchbox:
So about that drink. Do you wanna? With me? Now?
Gail:
Desperate much?
Lunchbox:
You can talk. So drink? Lol.
Gail:
Well that depends, do you still smell like dead people?
Lunchbox:
Your olfactory receptors are safe. I have since masked said smell.
Gail:
What a nerd. You driving? I am already at that cop bar The Penny, though I wouldn't mind getting out of this incestuous hellhole tonight.
Lunchbox:
I am very close. Pick you up in 3 meows, I mean minutes.
Gail:
I am regretting my decision already. Will be getting a new phone number ASAP.
Lunchbox:
Hey! You are the one who seemed desperate for friends. Anyway, I know where you work. This thing is inevitable.
Gail:
That's called stalking. Stop texting and driving or I will have to write you a ticket.
Lunchbox:
Siri, say hello to Officer Peck.
Gail:
Siri is a dick.
Lunchbox:
Siri agrees with you. She is also having trouble writing her own name.
Gail:
Illiterate dick. Meet you outside shortly. I'll be the one freezing my tits off in nothing but a bra.
Lunchbox:
You can borrow my jacket.
Gail:
That green puffy looking thing? Fuck no! I'd prefer to wear fleece.
Lunchbox:
Can't help you there.