"You sure about that, copper?" he asked with a snicker, testing the bed beneath him with a bounce. "These're about as soft as the beds back home, for me. That is to say, like plywood covered in a bath towel." He made a bit of a face. "Don't tell me prison beds are more comfortable than home, I'll get depressed."

She seemed surprised by his words, and he shrugged one shoulder.

"Hey, the way I see it, your rank is less important than your capability," he said, swinging his legs back and forth again. "Detective, sergeant, constable, they're just words. Somebody's actions say a lot more about them than a title ever will."

Scotland, Wales, England and Northern Ireland...? England was the only one he'd been to, or heard of, for that matter, but he had learned that sometimes places existed on two worlds. After all, there was the London those spotted dogs came from, and the London on the other side of Never Land, and while they were both London, they somehow weren't the same London. Go figure. Axel had never really bothered trying to make heads or tails of the science of how worlds worked, though; he left that nitty gritty nonsense to Vexen.

"So your world is bigger than just this Britain place, then?" he asked. Some worlds were quite small, but others were much larger than the one he'd grown up in, and he was still getting used to the idea. "What's it called? Your world."