The first chance she got, she was setting a trap for the sneaky bastard. But at the moment, she had other priorities. She caught the glide to the interview area and picked up Feeney on the way. "This guy likes to role play," Eve began. "I don't want to give him the chance to latch onto a character type. Let's mess with his rhythm." "I want to be bad cop this time." "Feeney, you're -- " She stopped, sniffed the air. "What's that smell?" Feeney hunched his shoulder. "I don't smell anything. I'm taking bad cop." He said it so decisively, Eve rolled her eyes, then shrugged. "Okay, fine. I'll start off being pleasant and reasonable, then we'll jam him. If he's lawyered..." She sniffed again, scenting the air like a bloodhound as other cops and Central personnel streamed by. "It smells, I don't know, green," she decided. "Like a salad." "I don't know what you're talking about. Let's keep focused, okay? A guy whips hell out of somebody like this one did, he's got a temper.
