a gulp, nonetheless

"done her in, reckon there were four or five clues in there"
he says. "Well, three, really, but lets impress her eh?"

"You seem pretty chilled out" says Holder. She drinks her drink like she doesn't want to. Jones drinks like he has to. The glass is already looking empty. He looks at the froth clinging to the glass.

"Lets go out for a cig" he says. He would never arrest a man for smoking in a pub, never, even if his career depended on it.

Outside drizzles on Didsbury. The roads clog the cars and the shops crouch almost right to the edge of the pavements. Jones sees the vegetarian restaurant, the canopies and the canapes, the fucking wicker chairs. Tries to block them out with smoke from his cig

"Yeah, I reckon too" says Holder. "That bit about the telly was just so wrong. And the wrists." He sighs smoke "please"

"Lets put the heat on him when he comes round" she says, as though she has to say something to Jones' silence.

"Too right" He grinds out the cigarette viciously and they head back to the pub. There's only a gulp of beer left but its a gulp, nonetheless

"Lets go"

In the car, he wishes he felt the vodka more strongly than he does, more strongly than it was.