you eat lunch at 2:30 am?

[bloodyuseful]

His usual ritual at work is to come in, say hello, get a coffee - or drop one off, depending - sit down, go over phone messages, and then begin to sift through open cases. He decides in which order they should be responded to, who should respond to them, and picks out the rare few that need to be kicked back to the departments that sent them up. He

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[domina_mira]

Elizabeth -- having introduced herself at the desk as Dr Weir, the Inspector's expected visitor and been directed up -- joins him not much later, dressed typically of herself and with a dark red pea coat over one arm.

True to form the universal mother sniffs the air ever so delicately. "You're going to destroy your lungs," she notes, without much in the way of censure considering all the smokers she spends time with.

In some cultures they actually greet people.

[bloodyuseful]

He was prying the bottom of the window open - they weren't really supposed to open any more but it's not like anyone else is going to know - and already smoking a cigarette.

"I haven't coughed from anything besides drinking whiskey too fast in over a hundred years," he says, through the cigarette. That's kind of telling, Abberline. Oh well.

[domina_mira]

He gets a withering look from his trouble, but she puts her coat down over the back of a chair and leans her hip against his desk. "It seems like everyone around me is older than they look, except the people that I'm older than."

How is this fair, she asks. Seriously.

"What are we having for lunch?"

[bloodyuseful]

Finally, open. It's cold outside, but at least this way he can air out the place and not get busted too badly.

"This is the only place that delivers that's open," he says, gesturing with the menu that she's free to sit down before just handing it to her. It's Indian, the English it's written in is questionable at best, and his Hindi sucks - but he likes everything on the menu, so it works out. For him, at least.