March, 1999, you wanted a Hello Kitty backpack. I got French toast with a whipped-cream smiley face. October, 2004, you wanted a set of mint condition, Empire Strikes Back lightsabers. I got an omelet shaped like Darth Vader.
You were the only one who understood the obsession that drove me. Who didn't tell me that I would get over my mother's murder and that she wouldn't want me to do this.
I dreamt about you. The night I shot the guy that killed my mother, I dreamt that I was the one who was on the ground dying, and that you came up to me and told me to stand up, 'cause there was still work to be done. [Longingly] When I woke up that morning I just wanted to call you, but we hadn't talked in so long.
I'm going to catch Carver's killer, Royce. And then I'm going to recover Lloyd's score. And when I arrest you, you're going to realize that what you destroyed today was worth a hell of a lot more than money. [She hangs up. Speaks to Ryan, suddenly distant, and unemotional] Did I keep him on long enough?
Yeah, except we are not a couple of top-heavy coeds out looking for fun. We’re highly trained officers of the law with enough firepower to take out a horde of undead.
