So Frills had managed to have a good day, or so his mood might make it seem. He even threw in a comment about coffee, one that hadn't been followed up by a totally baseless insinuation that Godot was trying to pass off one blend for a hundred. Probably smart, considering how pleased the prosecutor was with that side of the playing field at the moment. Frills was undoubtedly close to Trite; there'd been enough fodder to fuel more than one rumor even before he'd gotten there. But after that first night, Godot didn't exactly think assuming a bit of truth to the tales was a fool's choice.

"Ha! You're pretty perky, given our situation." Godot rested a hand in his pocket, taking a look around the heated room. A man who'd been in Hell couldn't find a place like this to be stifling. Besides, the heat was nothing compared to what boiled just beneath the surface of Godot's thoughts.

"I had a little talk a couple of shifts ago that you'd probably find interesting. A blondie with glasses told me a little fairy tell. Maybe you know how it goes? The average-looking Prince tries to slay the dragon, but stabs a Princess instead? Complete with no one living happily ever after. Pretty sad story, starring a pathetic would-be hero."