"Are you sleeping?"
She opens her eyes, suddenly aware that he's right. As she shuffles around in her chair, trying to find comfort again, the police captain comes into focus from across the table.
'Wake up," he barks.
"I'm awake." Irritability stains her voice.
"Josephine Sawyer, I've been captain of the London police for sixteen years. And god dammit, I have never seen someone fall asleep while being interrogated before." He leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette.
She taps her fingernails against the back of her chair, which is all she can reach while handcuffed like she is. "I think you're actually less intimidating in reality than you imagine yourself to be. Got an extra smoke?"
"Shut up," the captain orders. There's a beat of silence. She stares at him while he thumbs through a few papers. He stops and squints at one of them. "Did you sleep through your mug shot, too?"
He gives an exasperated sigh. "Sawyer, I want to be smirking and laughing right now. Believe me, I would love to be celebrating. We got you. We finally have you. But dammit, you're killing my buzz. You don't care! You don't care at all!"
She remains stone faced but her eyes glitter slightly in the lamplight. "Does that bother you, Randall?"
He snarls and pounds a fist on the table. "No. You're cuffed, you're captured, you are going to jail. I just want to know a few things first."
She leans back. "I'm not a virgin."
The captain's face reddens. "Shut your fucking mouth and answer my questions. What business did you have with Michael Eisenheim?"
"The owner of Eisenheim's Black Arts and Trickery Emporium. The joke shop you ransacked. You must have some quarrel with him. There's no other reason for you to break into a tacky magic supply store like that. What business did you have with him?"
She tugs half-heartedly at her handcuffs. The metal presses into her wrists and she frowns. "I have no business with him."
"Lying isn't going to help you now, Josephine. You're in checkmate."
"I'm not lying to you, Randall. I've never even met the man. Come to think of it, I hear he's even more of a criminal than I am. Maybe he's the one you should lock up."
"Michael Eisenheim is a good man."
"Well why don't you save us both some time and tell me what my options are, then."
The captain smiles, a little too pleasantly. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a deck of cards, fanning them out in front of Josie. "If you pick a card, and it's the one I'm thinking of in my head, you go free."
She pulls at her handcuffs again, staring at him. "I'm tied up."
"Then I'll ask you one more time. What business did you have with Michael Eisenheim?"
She gives him a long look, then lowers her gaze to the scuffed table in front of her. The tiniest of smiles sprouts on her lips. She suddenly grins and starts to giggle. She laughs and laughs, until the red-faced officer violently pounds his fist on the table again. "ENOUGH. You answer my fucking question!"
"Randall, darling. I broke into that magic shop for just one cheap product."
He glares daggers at her, breathing heavily. "And what product was that."
Her hands whip out from behind her back and she nails him in the jaw. He lets out a yell and topples to the floor, his chair clanging loudly against the table as it slips out from under him. The playing cards he held explode into a fluttering storm of white and red. Josephine quickly plucks a card from the air and holds it up. A grinning black and white fool poses jauntily on it's surface. She hops the table and tucks the Joker into his collar before sauntering out the door.
She pauses on the threshold and looks back, smiling. "Fake handcuffs."