Meya was in an alley way...crying. Something she rarely ever did. Why did all the popo hate her? Was it because of her history since she was two or three years old? Of her connections to the mafia and the underground networks? She didn't know. She only knew that they treated her differently. So she treated them the same way. She didn't know any better and she didn't know how to do otherwise. It was NOT how she was raised. She grew up where the popo where the enemy. Where they were the foes which would stab you in the back. She was staring at the ground now as her bipolar switched to her kinder, gentler, and more vunerable side. She sniffles a bit. She stands up and doesn't look at him. "We have no need to finish any other conversation. Just drop it." she says softly. The vunerability in her tone was heart wrenching. It was easy to see why they called her the soloist of good cop, bad cop. She looks at him. "What is the case? Tell me." she says grudgingly.