Tony Fisher was sipping coffee, leaning against the fountain in the center of the village, the one that the Hoodies would never stop plastering with graffiti no matter how many times they were jailed or otherwise punished.
Today's art was a pantsless man engaged in an illegal act with a domesticated animal.
"Oi, Tony," his radio crackled, Turner's discontent tone grating against the Lieutenant's frazzled nerves; he'd been doing paperwork until sunrise after losing a bet with Danny Butterman as to who could drink a two-liter bottle of pop faster, Cartwright or Wainwright.
Damn Cartwright's gag reflex…At least he hadn't been forced to clean up afterwards.
"What is it?" Tony grumbled into the radio, forgetting to chastise Turner for lack of professionalism; Angel was turning him into a protocol whore, to be sure.
"You seen anything…funny…today?" Turner asked, his voice totally sincere for once.
Tony glanced over his shoulder at the fountain art, then gave the plaza a quick visual sweep; Jason Briggs was scolding his illegitimate daughters, Jasper Montgomery was flirting with the significantly younger 50-something widow, Annette Kline, two Hoodies were waiting for Mr. Tyler to turn his back so they could slip into his store and most likely steal candy, and Hillary Windsor was rearranging the wilting flowers displayed in her floral shop's front window.
"No," Tony replied, exasperated.
"Well, we've some funny characters here just now," Turner continued, using the word "funny" for the second time that day, a word that usually crossed into his vocabulary only when discussing matters of state.
"How so?" Fisher asked, his interest somewhat piqued.
"Well…there's some people from the Met," Turner said, his voice hesitant suddenly, but he managed to finish, "And some bloke who claims to be a…zombie hunter, or some nonsense."
"S'not nonsense, mate," an Australian twang echoed in the background, making Tony jerk his ear away from his receiver in disgust.
"I take it that's him?" Tony asked, smirking at the thought of the aggravated expression he knew Turner must be sporting.
"…Yeah, that's the bastard, alright," Turner replied, sinking back into his glum, apathetic mode.
"Tell Inspector Fisher to report back to the station immediately," Tony heard Nicholas murmur to Turner, apparently assuming he couldn't hear him, as the Australian shouted something unintelligible in the background. "We're in the middle of a crisis, I'm afraid…again…"
Tony groaned, pouring the last of his coffee into the fountain before tossing the cup into a nearby trash bin.
"Oi, Tony-" Turner began.
"I heard him," Tony cut him off. "I'll be there in a tick. Keep your arms on…"