"Stop it, you're making me blush," Hyde said brusquely.
"You can't blush," Bradley mused, "It's physically impossible for you."
"Don't break my fragile dreams," Hyde said sarcastically, "And drive the damn car already. I'd rather not be the cop arrested for speeding."
"Less talking, more looking at the damn road Bradley."
"Whatever you say," Bradley said good-naturedly. Hyde grunted and looked out of the window. Flashes of the concrete jungle filled the window like an old film.
"How's your sister?" Hyde said, still staring into space.
"Fine, fine, why?"
"Just," Hyde said, "What, I'm not allowed to ask?"
"Hyde, you asking means you actually give a damn. Do you?"
"Believe or not, I wouldn't be a cop if I didn't give a damn."
"Uh-huh. And your dad had nothing to do with it."
"I wouldn't know," Hyde said, his voice trailing past a faint thought.
"Right. My bad," Bradley apologized, "That's the warehouse."
"You're undercover this time?" Hyde groused, "Man, you have all the fun. I have to snoop around and arrest Italian idiots."
"Oh, you're talking about DeNonno kid. Man, is he still yanking your chain?"
"Kid's too dumb for his own good," Hyde said, "Doesn't know good advice when he hears it."
"I wouldn't either, if it was you."
"Again, with the mocking."
"Spare me," Hyde cut him off, "I'd rather not hear it. You go do your cop thing. I'll be in the office shuffling papers, thinking of you."
"I'll leave the majority of those reports to you."
"And don't do anything dumb," Hyde said, "I'd rather not cover your ass."
"You're my partner. You're supposed to cover my ass."
"Yeah, but I don't give a damn, remember?"
"I'll try not to get killed," Bradley assured, "I'll leave that to you."
"Good," Hyde said.
Two weeks later, on a lone pier in L.A, Kyle Hyde LAPD Detective shot his partner.