"If you were I'd use a whistle." It was a joke, but it landed wrong and he turned to the menu himself. He needed to find some way to get them back on even footing if he wanted to find out anything about him. Of course that might not even happen. He would probably end up with nothing at the end of this evening but a raging heartburn. Maybe he could ask others about Fell. They'd probably tell him more about the man than Fell himself would, but there was something to be said for what the man told about himself.

He looked over the menu. Nothing seemed remotely appealing. He'd never been much for Indian Food or... well... not much of anything at all really. Food. Why did people have to eat anyway. Why couldn't they just live on air and water like a tree? All those textures and flavors and mess. And decisions. So many decisions. All of which he was bound to hate.

Sod it. He ordered himself some vegetable briyani, figuring if he didn't eat it he could always leave it out for the homeless man that lived in the allway across his building, and a cup of tea. Then was asked what kind of tea and said any tea because tea was tea was tea. Couldn't people just bring him something simple without asking qualifiers? He was busy here.

Then-- he supposed-- it was conversation time.

Bloody hell.

He steeled himself.

"So... Come here...often?" Off to a great now. Well done.