He had his badge back now and had firmly reaffixed it to his hip, but it was hidden under the untucked hem of his t-shirt. Not that it did him any real good. She was right, there was no jail. He'd checked.. Several times.

"Somethin' like that. Anythin' like that, really. Most I got is the local editor bein' chosen for something and being very happy about 'serving' his community. Bein' honor by it." He wagged a finger at her lazily as he looked over the piles of paperwork. "And I talk to myself as often as needed. Helps work out a problem sometimes, when plan A doesn't work. Plan A bein' Stare at it until an idea comes from chewin on it."

That was always the South's first answer when finding a problem that didn't have an obvious answer.

"Odd way to spend an afternoon, in a vent, watchin' someone you don't know go mad."