They both seemed to fall into silent deliberation, weighing up their options. Depth Charge wrapped his fingers on the table impatiently, as if appearing irritated enough would shame an idea into turning up for him. How would he have done it back in his old universe? If she'd known about X and he needed the information? Bugged the table and sent someone less obvious in. Hmm. Held her at gunpoint under the table 'til she spilled it? Probably not the careful, reasoned approach they were looking for here. Anyway, what if she was armed too?

Maybe it was better to listen to the near-pacifist's suggestions first before they settled on anything that bordered on a kidnapping charge.

"An argument... yeah, that could work," he agreed, nodding slowly as he worked it through his processor. "It's pretty obvious that it's code anyway, so as long as she hears it, it might just work. And if it doesn't-" Well, they needed a plan B, obviously. Frown deepening for a split second, he finished, "- if it doesn't, I'll buy her a drink or something and see if that helps."

Depth Charge and the Scarecrow: honey-traps extraordinaire. So much for sophistication- or dignity.

The waitress returned with a tray before he could listen to the Scarecrow's answer to that- with a smile she unloaded two mugs of hot, dark liquid and a saucer of milk, telling them to call if they needed anything else before flitting off to the next guest. He blinked. So this was what coffee looked like?