I will need to put these two into more scenes.
That good mood lasted just long enough for the Flatfoots to find me. Although I wasn’t hard to find. They just didn’t want to go into Leila’s place to fetch me. The Castle likes ‘em smart like that.
I knew these two. Hell, so do you. Al and Sancho: Al was the tall skinny one, and Sancho was the short fat one — see what I mean? You already know that Sancho likes to talk, and Al seems to mope all the time, and that Sancho’s got a full head of hair while Al’s fighting to keep the ones that he has left, and everything else. The Lore’s the Lore for a reason, my friends. It’s all in there, somewhere.
“Afternoon, Shamus,” said Sancho, somehow making it sound like ‘Hey, it’s the gilipollas!’ Flatfoots are traditionally kinda adversarial to Shamuses but Sancho really respects the tradition, you know what I mean? Al just looked at me like somebody had killed his dog and he was trying to be brave about it in front of his mama. I’d call his face ‘lugubrious,’ only I’m pretty sure that I’d spell it wrong.
“Howdy, Flatfoots,” I said just as politely. “You slumming on the streets?” I tapped the cobblestones with my foot. “Don’t worry, nobody’s stolen ‘em. Yet.”
“Shut your yap before I shut it for ya, peeper,” said Sancho; I was pleased to see that he hadn’t been neglecting the Lore after passing the Flatfoot exam. “You got business with the Lieutenant, so let’s get going.”