The officer, his uniform crisp and authoritative, towers over the young thief, his gaze intense and unyielding. He unholsters his baton, not to strike, but to trace the curve of her cheek, down to her trembling lips. 'You're a pretty little thing,' he growls, 'I bet you've got a lot more skill with your hands than shoplifting.' He leans in, his breath hot on her ear, 'I could use some... relief, after a long day. What do you say, sweetheart? A deal's a deal, after all.'