And what they don’t want you to know, you definitely want to know. - Ben Aaronovitch

I asked whether the High Fae came into the pub.
Lulu gave me a crooked smile.
“High Fae?” She asked.
“You know,” I said. “The gentry, elves, those posh gits with extradimensional castles, stone spears and unicorns.”
“You mean them what step between worlds?”
“Could be.”
“Who walk on paths unseen and wax and wane with the moon?”
“Them sort of people,” I said. “Yeah.”
“Not in here, squire,” she said. “I run a respectable pub.”

“The chicken in that is embalmed, dried and pressed very flat, and then sprinkled with extra chemicals,” she said.
“Too hungry to care,” I said.

Police work," said Stefan, "is ninety per cent paperwork, nine per cent bullshit and one per cent horror.