This Will Hurt You More Than It Hurts Me

“You’re in the soup now, missy.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re well and truly sorted out, me girl.”

Sorted out.”

“You’re in for a long old night of it.”

“A long night.”

“Thank you, Miller, no need for the Greek chorus.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Right ho. Now, back to you. You really should have talked when you had the chance. But you had to take the hard road. Now I don’t expect you’ll be talking about anything for a good long while.”

“Hee hee hee.”

“Miller?”

“Sir?”

“Insult her accent.”

“I…I can’t, sir.”

“What? Why not?”

“She’s got the gag in, sir. I don’t know what she sounds like.”

“Aah. Well, this is your lucky day then, me girl. Miller’s quite keen on dialect mockery. He’s brought a twenty-stone Scotsman near to tears. Still, this only means you’ll learn a new type of pain. Miller?”

“Yes, sir?”

“A few catty comments about her clothes to start, if you please.”

“Sir…she’s wearing one of those prisoner’s jumps.”

“So she is, so she is. Wouldn’t really be fair to mock on that, would it? Looking like everyone else as she does. Not cricket. Hmm.”

“She don’t wear it particularly well, sir.”

“Don’t be petty, Miller.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“All right, you treasonous bint. Hold your water while I have a go at the book. Miller, keep lookout.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s see. She’s not wearing a watch…she’s got brown hair…not particularly plump…credit rating looks good. Not the eyes, Miller.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“Bloody Nora. Doesn’t look like there’s anything we can do. We’re going to have to let her go.”

“But sir! Can’t we, you know, torture her physically? Just a bit? Some slaparound, at least?”

“Miller, we’re not bloody cowboys. You want to get locked up? Or sued?”

“Could we just keep her here, for a while? Until we think of something?”

“Don’t be silly, Miller. We can’t hold her. We’re not even citizens.”

“Can I go now?”

“Here! How’d you get that fucking gag out, then?”

“Miller. The filthy mouth is not wanted here.”

“It’s not really a gag. It’s just a bunch of Scotch tape.”

“No one asked you, Miss Critic.”

“Can I go back to work? My lunch hour is almost up.”

“All right. Go ahead then.”

“Aaaw!”

“Quiet, Miller. She’s too strong for us. We’ll never break her.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“You think about what you learned here, eh? Think long and hard about that.”

“Er, sure.”

“Because we’re not bloody helpless. Look at your purse, woman. It’s an absolute mess.”

“Okay.”

“There’s a lot we can do with that, you know.”

“I’m sure.”

“Am I right, Miller?”

“Well, you’re not wrong, sir. Not by a long shot.”

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