(In a derelict building, Grimes has a pot over a small flame.)

What the hell you doing?

It's all in the grind, Sergeant. Can't be too fine, can't be too coarse.

Grimesy, you are squared away.

[...]

Sergeant, how'd you like a nice hot cup of joe? Gold Coast blend.

Sit down. I want to take a look at that foot.

Aw, no, it's not a problem.

Come on, come on. (Grimes sits and removes his boot; Sanderson applies a bandage) Where the hell did they find you?

Behind a desk. (Sanderson laughs) No, really! What, you think I'm kidding?