He was surprised that they had that in common. Sort of. As she spoke the words sparked in the back of his mind like flint on stone and memories...of a sort...trickled into the back of his brain. It wasn't anything physical, nothing named, more muscle memory, thoughts, interests he didn't realize he had.

"People commit crime for as many reasons as people do anything," he said, knowing it was true even as he said it. "Because of poverty, because of anger, lust, greed, just for the hell of it. Trauma too. I think it's good work. Interesting work." Helpful too, to sort out the ones that needed help from the ones that bullshitted their way through.

"Murder is always going to get in the papers. Not much care is given to those that are left behind. So that's good too. Talking to the people that suffer." He wanted to hear more. He wanted to do more. To work in that sphere. Do-- find justice. To pursue it. To push back against all the evil in the world.

Only... he'd done a shit job of it before. And now-- he was too old to start something like that and pretty much a dead man walking anyway. His time had passed him by. Which was probably for the best.

"I hope you do great work." He saluted her with the wine glass and finished the rest of it, but didn't indulge in another. He was fairly sure that if he wasn't being watched then somehow Anthony would know of it and he'd never hear the end of it.