And a washed out dream
They follow the pattern of the wind, ya see
'Cause they got no place to be
That's why I'm starting with me—"
"I never took you as a singer, Detective."
Callahan choked. Crap. He jerked his head to the door of his office. A woman stood there, a smile creeping onto her face. Oh god, not her. He drew in a breath and clenched his jaw. "The forensics lab isn't this way, Maxine."
"I only came here to collect the evidence you borrowed from the lab," Maxine said, stifling her grin. "The phone, to be exact."
Out of all of the people that could've walked in, it just had to be the person he would have to work with the most. It just had to be the one who never failed to uphold a subtle sense of composure and respect, like how she stood perfectly still no more than a centimetre into the office, placing one hand on top of the other in a