Too Hot
Even if Sutcliff is a bit—well, more than a bit, really—of a nutter, he's still a lot more interesting than Spears, and for this, Eric is thankful. Sutcliff is huffing, delicately wiping sweat from his brow as the cinematic record hums up from the corpse in front of them.
"I hope you're paying attention," Grell says, "because I'm certainly not."
It's the hottest day of the year so far, and humans- alive or dead- smell infinitely worse than usual.
"I've got it, Senior," Eric answers, and stamps the file Complete even as a rustle of fabric distracts him.
"Now I know I'm not your Alan, but please understand that this heat calls for a bit of disrobing."
"Sod off," Eric says, as Grell undoes that foppish necktie, unfastens the top few buttons of his shirt.
"Sensitive topic?" Grell smiles, razor-sharp and goading. He snatches the Soul Ledger from Eric's hands; briefly skims the file. "Good job," he says, shutting the tome. "Efficient. Heartless. Lovely. Though I do believe Humphries is a tad more sensitive, no?"
Eric shoulders his scythe and turns away, free hand shoved into his pocket.
"Senior," he replies, "it's too hot for this shit."