Lady bar! Kima, Cheryl, and a couple of their friends toast with shots, one of them choking. You can tell she's the one who wouldn't be able to hold her liquor because she's in a mock turtleneck. Honey, you're in a bar, and it's 2002. Please return the top to JC Penney. Or your mom. Cheryl brag-exposits that she went to journalism school at Northwestern, so no one can keep up with her alcoholic ass. Kima calls her out for talking like she's "some crusty old reporter." "Excuse me?" squeals Cheryl. Kima: "Bitch, you work at a TV station." Snap? Cheryl says it's the same thing, and tells Kima to shut up. Cheryl downs another shot, and taunts Kima to bring it. Kima gazes at her shot for a moment, demurring that she has to work the next day. The rest of the table crows at her for trying to puss out (as it were); Cheryl calls her a candy-ass, and down the table, one woman takes a shot and plants a big fat smooch on the woman sitting next to her. Cheryl compliments Tanya, the smoocher, for getting her drink on better than Kima: "And she run a damn art gallery! You see, police in this town ain't about shit." Mock Turtleneck goes "ohhhhhh" at the dig, like this has anything to do with her dowdy ass. "Guess not," says Kima, not taking the bait. "Can't hold a liquor. Can't hold a donut." Everyone cracks up. Kima: "And if you ask me, I guess we, uh, ain't good in bed, either." She locks eyes with Cheryl, who giggles, "Don't go there, Officer!"
Mock Turtleneck decides this is the moment to ask Kima how she knew she wanted to be a cop: "I mean, how did you choose that?" Cheryl looks uncomfortable at this line of discussion, and leans back to wait it out. Kima acts reticent, but when Tanya's smoochee goads her, she finally relents: "I remember when I was in the Northeast, still field-training as a cadet. I didn't know if I was gonna stick with it or not." Cheryl: "[Bitchface]." Kima: "We chased this purse-snatcher up into these apartments. I got separated from my FTO. And, shit, I ain't even no police yet. You know? I'm just a trainee. And I'm alone. Anyway, I mean, I don't know how, but I find the guy. So I catch him and I hold onto him and I manage to get my radio." Everyone at the table is listening raptly, except Cheryl, who is broadcasting with every pore how much she wishes Kima were talking about the early days of her career as a CPA. Kima: We in the middle of this parking lot and we're rolling around and shit, and this motherfucker's steady kicking my ass trying to get away. And I look over and I see these black patents and these uniform blue pants. I look up, and it's Charlie Smoot. Charlie fucking Smoot. You know, this guy's a legend." Cheryl: "[Bitchface Supreme]." Kima: "He looks down at me and he smiles, you know, real quiet-like. And he drops his cuffs. He says, 'Here you go, rook.'" She shrugs: "That's all he says. 'Here you go, rook.' And then he dropped the bracelets and walked away." Cheryl: "[Bitchface Extraordinaire]." Kima tells Cheryl, "I mean, I know you don't like it." Cheryl: "[Ultimate Mega-Bitchface Of Silent Fury]." Kima: "But shit, I was proud." She looks like she might start crying, and finally Cheryl decides to quit coozing up everyone's nice night and pulls Kima to her for a kiss. Mock Turtleneck eats it up, and Cheryl takes another shot. Shut up, Cheryl.