Lamb wears a cheap but functional suit. He’s made a minimal effort to clean up for work.

Hamilton wears a dripping wet trench coat. There’s the faint trace of a British accent when he speaks.

Josef is in a daze. A grimace of pain crosses his face. We’ll soon find out why.

Hamilton looks at Josef, examines his features. Lamb watches Hamilton.

HAMILTON: Sorry.

LAMB: No?

HAMILTON: No.

LAMB: You’re sure?

HAMILTON: I’m sure.

LAMB: Take another look.

Hamilton looks at Josef again.

HAMILTON: I wish I could help, but … I’ve never seen this man before.

LAMB: So he doesn’t look familiar at all … ?

Hamilton shakes his head, shrugs.

LAMB: Damn. (sighs) I took this shift ’cause I figured it’d be quiet, ya know?

But instead, I’m stuck with … (half-hearted salute) Sergeant Santa.

HAMILTON: Has he said anything?

LAMB: Nothing except for … (checks his notes) ‘Ne-chu-vi-nicho-rachi.’

At least that’s what it sounds like. He said it / every time –

JOSEF: (slurs) Ne ću vi ničo rači …

LAMB: Right. That.

HAMILTON: Is he drunk?

LAMB: There’s no alcohol on his breath. He was a bit wobbly on his feet, though. He’s under the influence of something.

HAMILTON: Drugs?

Lamb shrugs.

HAMILTON: And he said that every time you what?

LAMB: Said what?

HAMILTON: The, thing, sentence … ‘Ne-chu-vi’-whatever.

LAMB: Oh yeah. Every time I asked him a question. Why? Any idea what he might be saying?

Hamilton shakes his head.

LAMB: I thought it was Russian at first, but no, it’s some obscure Eastern European … (checks his notes) Lavinian.

HAMILTON: I have a colleague who’s from there.

LAMB: You think he’s up right now?

HAMILTON: Uh … Not at three in the morning, no.

LAMB: Yeah. It’s just … I called for a translator, but on Christmas Eve? God knows when he’ll get here. If.

Oh, and I guess it’s technically Christmas now. Merry Christmas.

HAMILTON: … Thanks.

LAMB: (indicates his notes) Anyway, I tried Google translating this but apparently I can’t spell for shit because it tells me he’s saying, ‘I want very much to woo you.’

HAMILTON: I doubt that, somehow.

LAMB: Yeah, otherwise he ain’t gonna like my answer. (glances at Hamilton) Not that gay isn’t, you know … (gives a thumbs up)

So whaddya make of the whole military uniform? That’s / really throwing me off –

HAMILTON: You said he had my card on him?

LAMB: Oh yeah. Wait’ll you see this.

Lamb opens a desk drawer and pulls out a metal hook attached to a string. Baited on the hook is a card.

HAMILTON: Jesus.

LAMB: Had this around his neck. Ever seen one before?

HAMILTON: Is that for shark fishing?