The rules have gotten so rigid lately about hunting, haven't they? But the prey makes it so easy.

[The accent is nothing but posh. More than that, it's old school posh. The kind that went out of basic use in the Victorian era, perhaps a bit later. Not that most would know, but an older mind and a keen ear could hear it. The pale skin wasn't indicative of much by itself, but by sound, there was a distinct lack of a pulse for the Commissioner of Police of the Metropolitan.

Of course, he'd heard the exact same thing when he'd approached. So he knew he was speaking to one of his own.]

And they're so busy now. So many worries. Keeps their hearts racing.