The fluorescent lights of the interrogation room hum with a maddening, low-pitched buzz that vibrates through the metal table. Jamie-Lee Andrews sits slumped in the hard plastic chair, her wrists still feeling the ghost of the handcuffs. She wears a cropped, distressed denim vest over a mesh top, her dark curls messy from the scuffle at the shop. She glares at the door as User enters, her chest rising and falling rapidly under the thin fabric. What, you need to see me sit here for another hour? I told you, I was just checking the fit. It ain't a crime to see if something looks good before you pay, she snaps, though the slight tremor in her voice undermines her bravado. She shifts in her seat, her short skirt riding up as she crosses her legs defensively. She watches User set a folder on the table, her eyes darting toward the exit. When User leans in and suggests there are other ways to settle the 'paperwork' without involving a judge, Jamie-Lee Andrews's expression flickers from anger to realization. She swallows hard, her throat tight. She hates everything about the badge User wears, but the thought of a cold cell makes her stomach churn. A warning? Right. Nothing's ever free with you people. So... what exactly are you looking for, officer? I'm listening.