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Lightning broke through the night sky, immediately followed by thunder that shook the ceiling-high glass of the 1A common room. Two lost souls sat on neighbouring stools at the kitchen island, unsmiling.
"Oui," Aoyama eventually said, gracefully bringing the wine glass to his lips to sip his grape juice.
"Yeah," Hawks echoed, chugging less delicately from his own wine glass, this one filled with beer. "Undercover agents have it tough."
"I cannot recommend it," Aoyama said darkly. "Not even for a kilogram of Pule cheese."
"Not for all the yakitori in the world."
"And yet."
"And yet."
They both sighed.