The patrolman with the cigarettes smirks at her words, looking genuinely amused by her quick rejoinder. The lawyer bitch might be a mutt loyalist, but even he can't seem to deny the humor in her response.
"It's been a good week for us," the lieutenant says, leaning casually against the back of one of the chairs around the table as if this is perfectly routine for him. He flashes a smile, showing a broken tooth at the corner of his mouth. For several long, tense moments it's the only thing that is said-- silence falls thick over the small kitchen until finally there comes the sound of approaching footsteps.
When Reeves Olinger arrives, he is flanked by two patrolmen who somehow look less friendly than the ones that met Nina here in the first place. They have their hands on their pistol grips and a cold look in their eyes that seems to tell her that they would show no hesitation, no mercy if those weapons are drawn. Olinger stands at least a head shorter than the both of them, his suit slightly rumpled but his face clean shaven, his hair neat, his eyes glimmering manically.
"Nina, Nina, Nina," he chides, sounding almost playful, like a parent that has caught their child in a bit of mischief. "This is a disappointment. Truly. The APD tried to warn me about you, about your loyalties, and I said no, no, that woman is no fool. Defending a killer in a court of law does not a criminal make. How embarrassing it is to be proven wrong."