"She likes you." Randall said, like a polite FBI man in a movie, a little sad, but very manly. "Her old man was as straight a cop as ever lost a job. She had no business taking those things. She likes you."
"She's a nice girl. Not my type."
"You don't like them nice?" He had another cigarette going. The smoke was being fanned away from his face by his hand.
"I like smooth shiny girls, hardboiled and loaded with sin."
- Farewell, My Lovely by Raymond Chandler