[ Somewhere with nothing to trick you, he says, as if he isn't talking to the biggest trickster in the room. If this place isn't safe from Soleum, then it isn't safe from anything. His coat lands on top of his desk. Soleum doesn't take him up on his offer of the place right beside him, but he does sit on the arm of the couch, a safe distance apart. He can stay, just for a short while.

The dark outline of his scar quivers along the notches of his throat as he surely empties a quarter of the can into his stomach. He really has done this a number of times, without repercussion, hasn't he? ]

There are a lot of items left behind by others here, [ Soleum says, politely glancing about. Right before their mission into the ocean palace, they had a similar conversation about this place. The haunted painting one of his old teammates brought in. The leftover notes, not just scrawled on the board, but left all over the room: in old case files, stuck to the bottom side of his desk drawers, even etched into the wood of their coffee table. It's a place that's never solely belonged to one person, but seems to have indiscriminately welcomed all sorts of people these past several years.

Back then, he'd called it pleasant, but — yes, Agent Choi is right. It is steadying, knowing it's somewhere that will be here long after Soleum has left.

Finally, he takes the other can left on the table, pinching the tab open. ]

Whenever I come here, it has a warm feeling. It's no wonder you leave a bunch of home goods lying around.