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[Jim is locked in a wine-cellar overnight with Philippa Vale who is planning to steal a very rare bottle of wine
] Philippa Vale
: May as well grab one of the other ones. We're locked in here. We've got to do something.
[she opens it, drinks a glass and offers another one to Jim
] Jim Bergerac
: No thanks. Philippa Vale
: No, of course. You don't drink, do you? Oh, James! This does put the kybosh on my plan. Jim Bergerac
: What plan was that? Philippa Vale
: Well I was going to fill you full of fine old vintages and then take advantage of your helpless state. Jim Bergerac
] That's your technique, is it? Must be a bit difficult, that - judging the fine line between helpless and hopeless. Philippa Vale
: Course now I really *do* have a problem. You being such a sweet old-fashioned gentleman... If I sit here and polish off this bottle all by myself, *I'll* be the one in the helpless state, and you wouldn't *dream* of taking advantage of me, would you? So do I run the risk of a long cold lonely night of sobriety, constantly buoyed up by the expectation that your iron self-control will crack before dawn's rosy fingers, etcetera etcetera. Or do I cut my losses and drink myself into an abandoned but carnally virtuous stupour? Jim Bergerac
: You *do* have a problem, don't you? Philippa Vale
: I do. Jim Bergerac
: I wish I could help you with it. Philippa Vale
: James! Jim Bergerac
: What am I doing here? Philippa Vale
: You're carrying out an investigation, Sergeant. Isn't that what all good policemen do? Investigate.
[she leans leans towards him and they kiss tenderly