"Yeah, it's late," she confirms, but she rolls a casual shrug that has one shoulder spilling out of her silken gown. "But that's alright. Come on, we'll go sit in my office. It's warmer in there." Her eyes stay on him for a moment longer than they need to as she walks on past him, leading him up the couple of steps to her tiny office.

It looks more like an entrance, than an office, with a desk backed against a window obscured by a closed blind, through which the thrashing rain can still be heard. The desk is covered in papers and files, with a poorly lit lamp struggling to illuminate that corner alone. There's an ashtray holding a still smoking cigarette, and a half finished glass of scotch leaving ring marks on a newspaper.

The place is a mess, but it all seems to make sense to her, as she squeezes past the numerous filing cabinets that line her walls, and goes to pick up the crystal glass, taking a mouthful before she perches on the corner of her desk, offering him the one lone chair that takes up the last remaining space in the room.

"Well, go ahead, sweetie. I'm all ears," she tells him straightforwardly, expecting him to come out with some emotional story about what had led him here and what he needed her for.