"Right. Well. I've no idea, to be honest. Just seemed appropriate." But then again-- Maybe it wasn't. Fuck this was all so complicated. It would help if he had a solid foundation for what this dinner was. Maybe because it was part subterfuge he felt so bloody aimless at it. He shook his head and binned the flowers.

"Don't thank me." He certainly wouldn't by the end of it. "Come on, Fell."

He pushed in. It seemed like a sit yourself sort of place, but packed with diners and noisy. The recorder was going to pick up fuckall here. Though there was a spot in the back near the kitchen that was empty enough and he parked himself there on the chair rather than the bench. He hated those long benches restaurants had. You couldn't get in or out without scooting about like a dog itching its arse against the carpet and he'd really rather not.