before the series, in the city Drift hails from:
Detective, breathing hard, trembling from the adrenaline and bleeding from a dozen cuts from the broken glass in the greenhouse she's broken into: it's over, you monster! In just three hours, the morning papers will go on sale, and your face will be above the fold on every. single one. I've stopped you! Finally!
Drift, Orchid Killer: Awwwww you're trembling! That's kinda cute. Too bad we both know you're lying. You'd never end our game like that.
Distant shouting. A searchlight blazes through the glass.
Detective: I also talked to the police.
Drift: ...Really? C'mon, man. That's just not cool.
Detective: I DON'T CARE WHAT'S COOL! I WANT YOU BROUGHT TO JUSTICE!
Drift: Well yeah, you say that, and I guess that's a totally reasonable thing to want. But I was kinda hoping we'd pitch over the side of a skyscraper while trying to kill each other, and fall to our deaths together.
The shouting gets closer. A battering ram sounds against the doors several floors below.
Drift: Because I thought we had a thing! You've been stalking me with such dedication! You keep notes! You followed up on the orchids! You know how many police detectives followed up on the dye I was using? None!
Detective: I followed up because you were killing people!
Drift: I mean I guess I can see that now.
The door breaks. A dozen footsteps echo in a stairwell. They still have time; there are several barricaded doors left.
Drift: You know what? This is on me.
Drift: I underestimated you. And overestimated our friendship.
Detective: We're not friends! You're some kind of sick-minded freak, and you're about to go behind bars! Forever!
Drift: Well you didn't need to say that. That's just hurtful. Anyway, you're wrong.
Obviously, this means Sausage is her rebound bestie.