1 Work in Kiss of Death (1947)
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Tommy had worked his right shoe off and was running his toes up Nick's thigh, a familiar glaze of panic over his eyes. Anyone who'd ever been in police custody would've had the same look. He was struggling against the cuffs, a slight whine in his breathing, hips lifting off the floor. "Hey," he was saying, "hey, big man, you ain't goin' nowhere, right?" His tongue was flicking snakelike behind his teeth, and there was a fierce glint in his eyes, a bright flare of desperation, casting a deep shadow: a look Nick wouldn't want to meet in a sealed cell. "Right?"