Fleming: It's that English accent of his, isn't it? Isn’t it?

Elrod: Yeah, it's the accent. I could listen to him read the phone book.

Fleming: Be careful what you wish for, lady. I've heard him, and it don't do a thing for me. Probably just as well.

Elrod: Um...okay. Now as for the other member of your gang--

Fleming: Gang?

Elrod: Gordy Weems, known as "Northside Gordy." He's got a bit of a reputation as a member of Chicago's underworld. 

Fleming: Which is like saying Capone ran a little distribution business for hooch.

Elrod: You've an odd sort of friendship with Gordy, though.

Fleming: Don't make it sound like that! People will get the wrong idea! But, yeah, Gordy and I have teamed up on a case. He knows everything that goes on in Chicago, and sometimes I help him convince a mug to play nice in the sandbox. Well, I used to, anyway. Not so much these days--uh--nights.

Elrod: Oh, yeah? What do you mean?

Fleming: Nah, I'm not going into that. You'd call it a spoiler. Has to do with what you'd call my "powers."

Elrod: Tell us about those.

Fleming: Jeez, take notes, why don'tcha?

Elrod: I am.

Fleming: What is that gizmo?

Elrod: It's a digital recorder.

Fleming: I thought it was a cigarette box, only I can smell that you don't smoke.

Elrod: Sensitive sense of smell, yes, go on.

Fleming: When I bother to breathe, that is. I like that perfume by the way.

Elrod: Oh. Thank you! 

Fleming: You don't have to dump in on, though.

Elrod: Hey!

Fleming: It's okay, I don't mind.

Elrod: Back to your powers, wise-ass.

Fleming: Jeez, you make me out like I'm some kinda super guy, but it's part of the package when I woke up undead that night on the beach. I got the night vision and good hearing. And I figured out how to hypnotize people—which isn't polite, by the way—but the best one is being able to disappear.

Elrod: You turn into a mist?

Fleming: No I just vanish. Like this—

Elrod: YOW! WHERE ARE YOU?

Fleming: Right here.

Elrod: YEEEEE!

Fleming: Calm down! It's no big deal.

Elrod: It sure as hell IS!

Fleming: I guess so. I've gotten used to it. Sure tires me out, though. I get hungry.

Elrod: Er...hungry?

Fleming: Yeah, and you know what THAT means.

Elrod: Is that a trick question?

Fleming: Cool your motor, honey, you're safe. I'll just stop at the Stockyards and top off my tank before I turn in for the day.

Elrod: That's a relief.

Fleming: Not for the cows, and lemme tell you it is HELL on my shoes. Usually I vanish and float in, especially when it's muddy.

Elrod: Why don't you get some galoshes?

Fleming: Galoshes?

Elrod: Yeah.

Fleming: Galoshes.

Elrod: You pull them on. They protect your shoes.

Fleming: I KNOW what they are, ya dizzy dame.

Elrod: Well, don't bite my head off!

Fleming: You should be so lucky.

Elrod: I’d rather have Escott.

Fleming: Hey—I heard that!

Elrod: We’re done here. Where’s Escott?

Fleming:  He heard you were coming and hid behind the bar.

Escott: I most certainly did not. Ms. Elrod, I am Charles Escott. Please pay no attention to Mr. Fleming. I am delighted to finally make your acquaintance.

Elrod: Likewise, I’m sure. Golly, you’re taller in person.

Escott: And you’re far more charming than I was led to believe.

Elrod: Why, thank you!

Escott: I’m sure Jack has some bartending duties to occupy himself. Why don’t you and I go for a drive? It would be my very great pleasure to take you on a tour of some of the locations that have figured in The Vampire Files.

Elrod: Oh, that would be fantastic, Mr. Escott!

Escott: Please…call me Charles.

Elrod: Charles...

Fleming: Oh, jeez.