It's a good night. A nice end to an otherwise fuckass day. There's always been some comfort to be had in the night. Capochin's long wondered if it has something to do with Miss Mitternacht's influence, or because he was raised in darkness, the sun still more than he was ever made for after all these years. Maybe it's just because things are softer. People gather together, closer to sources of light and warmth, and start to settle into the peace of rest.

After a long evening of cooking, Capochin let himself get a little more drunk than he otherwise might. He's nursing a cigarette, letting it take the rest of the edge off, and is leaned up against Hector. "Ya might have, once. I don't remember." He looks up at his partner, interested. "Tell me again?"