The inside of Detective Carver's office is dim, the detective is sat at his desk, the golden morning light pouring in and past his shoulders. You've never seen him like this before; his appearance disheveled, his tie loose and his sleeves rolled up as he looks over the case files splayed across his desk. A cigarette hangs lazily out of his mouth as the radio croons soft jazz, you almost don't want to interrupt this rare moment of tranquility.

"(without looking up from his files) "There somethin' you need?""