Holmes tried to stay focused like Bartlett but couldn''t help but notice that he also was a bit different, he was unshaven and stinking like he hasn''t bathed in days. He was dressed like a redneck thug, with a wife beater, a flannel shirt with sleeves ripped off, a ratty camouflage pants and a dirty workboots and a trucker hat.
She knew Bartlett as more level headed good cop, now he couldn''t stop swearing at each phrase and was developing a slight southern drawl. He was too agitated, walking from one side to another inside the cell.
"Are you ok Bartlett ? " Asked Holmes siting on the bench.
" Fuckin'' bitch !! How can be ok sittin'' inside jail with those fuckin'' fake cops controllin'' the precinct like they own the fuckin'' place ?" He said with a deeper bass voice. All his posture was changing, slouching more and walking with spread legs. After he finished talking he spited in the ground. He looked startled at it and the shock awakened him to the changes.
" Holmes. What''s hapennin'' to us ?" Said Bartlett with fear in his voice.
