"Mary and Joseph, which blind nun taught you to shoot?"

Alex pretends that she can't hear Gene through the earphones and frowns at her little paper cut out. "How ever did you make DI?" he continues on, and she glares at him over her shoulder.

"I've never actually had to shoot anyone, Gene."

"What, never?"

Alex shakes her head. "I'm a psychologist. Most of my job has been behind a desk."

"Blimey why didn't you say so in the first place, the amount of gas I could have saved not having to cart your posh behind along with me sweeping up scum—"

"Shut up, Gene."

"Don't get all high and mighty on me, Madame Sulky Knickers." The paper is yanked out of her hands and crumpled up. "Do you want to learn how to properly shoot, now?"

"I know how to shoot."

"No you don't."

Alex protests but lets him put a hand on her elbow, and Gene's hands are almost uncharacteristically soft on her hips as he adjusts her. "There."

She hits the target every time. It's a copper's fantasy Alex tells herself later over drinks and paperwork. In her head this is just some cowboy fantasy. It has to be.