Yeah, okay. Gene need more alcohol, nevermind feeling ill. He grabbed the tin of Party Four and poured out another pint, downing it quickly. "You. Boffed Ray." Definitely needed more alcohol. "Christ, you slept with Ray."

Death could not come soon enough.

"No, Diva, you can't be friends with whoever, because you bloody slept with my DS." Maybe it was a disjointed sense of entitlement when it came to his team, or perhaps misplaced protectiveness of Diva herself, but Gene was not taking this news well. If only he hadn't set his gun down, he could at least shoot himself in the head and purge the memory of what she'd told him. "Is it at all possible for you to keep your sodding knickers on?"