"What do you feel like doing?" asks Lestrade.
"I want to sit here, with this coffee mug in my hands, and watch as these copper vents drop from the ceiling and then rise back into it."
"Do you think you can make a living doing this?"
"Then why would you think about it? I thought you wanted to be a writer. Have you even applied to any writing jobs?"
"Why did we even come to New York?" she asks.
"I like it here."