The going has been slow and patchy, but I've just finished the scene where Jimmy meets a very pretty constable and makes such a good first impression of himself:
Suddenly faced with meltingly gorgeous brown eyes, Jimmy was momentarily dumbstruck. “Sir?” “Sorry?” “Who should I say wants to see the inspector?” enquired the constable, with a soft southern burr.
The constable exited into an office, and Jimmy breathed the smallest of sighs as he watched the man go, wishing that standard-issue police jackets were just a little bit shorter.
With a greater show of reluctance than he was feeling, Jimmy got up and approached the desk once more. Constable Doyle looked up and into his eyes. Oh dear. Clearing his throat and momentarily darting his own gaze away, Jimmy took a moment to compose himself. This, however, allowed Doyle to take the conversational initiative—not the best start.
"So please, if not for your own sanity then for mine, please give her something to follow.” Jimmy paired this last plea with his puppy-doggest eyes, and it seemed to be working—Doyle was softening.
“This is my landlady’s telephone number. Much better for undercover work, I reckon. Just leave a message for Tom Doyle, and she’ll make sure I get it.” He handed the paper to Jimmy, letting their fingers and gazes touch for a beat, then two. “You need help with anything, you just ring me up, alright?” Jimmy could feel the corner of his mouth twitching upwards of its own accord. “I’ll do that, Constable.”
At least it seems to be working for him...
