Chief: HOTCHKISS! Your ass, my office YESTERDAY!
Hotchkiss slams the top drawer of his desk murmuring to himself about the different ways he could kill the Chief of Police for making him look like a fool.
As he makes his way to the Chiefs office he struts though the small gap of cluttered desks of this overstaffed building kicking over trash cans and pouring coffees on their owners laps.
Hotchkiss: Say something you over paid dirt bags.
Before entering the office he turns to the cesspool (as he calls it) of worthless detectives and holds up his middle finger just before he slams the door to the Chiefs office.
Hotchkiss: What in the fuck do you want from me now?!
Chief: Listen here you little twat, do you have any idea how much my phone has been blowing up?! I've got the press wanting to know if that Kessler girl had anything to do with BabyFeet, I've devastated parents out for your badge, and the Mayor is so far up my ass he's helping me scrub the back of my fucking tongue over the stunt you pulled yesterday.
The Police Chief circles the desk while tossing file after file on the desk in disgust.
Hotchkiss: …What Kessler girl?
Chief: THE FUCKING HOOKER YOU SHOT YESTERDAY! Jesus fuck Hotchkiss, what is the matter with you? You don't even remember who you shot?!
Hotchkiss: OH so now she's a hooker? What happened to my report saying she was one of BabyFeets' trained assassins?! I shot that broad in self defense.
Chief: Self defense?! She had a goddamn French Maid costume on!
Hotchkiss: She had a lethal weapon! She was swinging a fucking rock sling!
Chief: That was a goddamn ball gag you fucking lunatic.
Hotchkiss sat a moment before slamming his fists on the chiefs desk.
Hotchkiss: I can't be held accountable for things like that!
Chief: Why the hell not? You're the asshole who shot the girl!
Hotchkiss: I don't know if it's because you're a goddamn mountain man or something but this is Brooklyn. Everyone of these dirt bags that live here are one of BabyFeets mindless cronies. I don't know what you did up there in the North fucking Pole but down here we're not dealing with drunk fucking eskimos who forgot where they parked their dogsled. These pricks aren't throwing snowballs, they're using fully automatic weapons.
Chief: First off, I came here from Montana you twat. Second, if all these pricks have fully automatic weapons, then what was the Kessler girl doing with a goddamn rock sling?
Hotchkiss: BabyFeet is trying to keep me on my toes because he knows I'm getting close to him. I'm going to cut his fucking head off when I find him, (He slowly stands and walks to the door.) you can bet on that.
Hotchkiss slams the door as he fiercely makes his way back through the cesspool of cluttered desks to his own where his partner was waiting for his return.
Carter: What did that asshole have to say this time?
Hotchkiss: He's all bent out of shape because of that hooker I shot last night.
Carter: I thought she was a trained assassin. (He says while leaning back in his chair sarcastically going over case files.
Hotchkiss: I don't need any shit from you. I saw what I saw so maybe instead of being a prick, you could back up your partner.
Carter: Easy there big guy, I was just messing with you.
Hotchkiss: It's BabyFeet, I swear. He's just toying with me. We're the only ones that want to bring this asshole down. Everyone else is in that fat fucks pocket.
Carter: Yeah, no doubt he had something to do with it but you know that's not enough.
Hotchkiss: Yeah, yeah. We're going to get him though. And we're going to nail this fucker to the wall.