“Poliche.” Her jaw moved in an exaggerated manner and it took Harold a moment to realise she had no teeth. If that was a measure of her new undead status of if she was used to wearing dentures he had no idea but the cavernous mouth didn't improve her appearance. “There wash a man here. He did thingsh to me.”
“Things?”Harold glanced to his right where Sefskapoi made an 'I don't know what she's talking about' shrug.
“He hurt me. Locked me in here. Can't you help me? Call the polishe?”
“Um...” Harold took out his wallet and flashed her a copy of his driving licence in the slight hope she couldn't read it from this distance. “Have you partaken in any controlled substances recently?”
“Controlled shubshtanshes? I don't know what you mean.”
“Oh. I have a little bit. It'sh medishinal, for my arthritish.”
“That's explains a lot, madam. I'm very sorry, but we're going to have to take you in.”
“Take me in?”
“That's right.” He glanced to his left where Jasfoup had taken out his notebook. “Unless you want me to exorcise your rights.”
“I don't think thatsh necheshary.” Her voice deepened but even the possessing legionnaire couldn't enunciate without teeth.