[Chicago. Not New Orleans, but about as close as you could get to it this side of the Mississippi. It had its own kind of casual charm, a taste of the blues, and just enough soul to be worth talking about.

And, best of all, he could walk into any place in it and not get dirty looks. More than he could say about most towns in the US- the ones he was still allowed to walk into.

He gave Irma a polite little salute.] If it ain't, I got a bone to pick with someone. How's tricks? [He clicked his tongue once.] Hold that thought. [He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket and moved over, waiting until Liam addressed him. Funny how old dogs didn't feel the need to actually wait for the usual chit-chat bullshit.]

They oughta commit you to sainthood for that. Dieting's gotta count as torture. [He slid into the booth on the opposite side.]