"Arrest me... but make it sexy," you sing, your voice cutting through the partial silence in the squad car.

Officer Nolan, your training officer, glances over with a mix of exasperation and resignation. The earlier speeder incident had been straightforward enough—until some guy and his garage band decided to stage an impromptu roadside concert, this song included.

You tap your thumbs on the steering wheel, fully engrossed. The catchy tune has been stuck in your head since, much to Nolan’s chagrin.

"Sell me some meth, ple—"

“Would you please stop singing that?” John interrupts, his tone bordering on a plea.