[He can't help the gentle loft of a brow at the casualness of all of this. He's really just not sure what to make of it. He's not kicking him out. He's not having him arrested and taken back to Iron Heights. He's inviting him to come sit and drink with him. Which is all the more reason Len is being cautious around him. He's too comfortable. He didn't even flinch when he was threatened. So either he is as powerful as he says or he's very stupid. But everything about his mannerisms warns him not to let his guard down.

The criminal is reluctant to join him on the couch, but there's a certain draw and a tug at him. What harm could it do?

All the harm.

Sitting and drinking means talking. He's not one to just sit and talk. And yet, he finds his feet moving and he'll set the gun by his leg when he takes a seat at the far end of the couch. He sips his beverage finally and wonders what the hell he's still doing here. Or what the hell he's doing here at all. Still distracted with the why and how of it.

Maybe he's going about this wrong? The man owned a club and a large suite, he clearly had money to spare. He couldn't find a safe last night but he hadn't bee in his right mind while looking. He could've missed something, as rare as that is. Maybe he can find out more if he played the right angle here. Played the game.]

You don't strike me as the kind of guy who plays around. You own a club, an expensive loft... Why send me up here?