He went through academy training, he was hired on at a department, he was a cop. It totally counts. "Yeah? Well, hopefully you're a better cop than some of 'em I've met. Last guy with a badge I had anything to do with fucked off from his post to go flirt with some shitty tabloid reporter."

Taking a seat and immediately curling over the edge of the table in the manner typical of someone that's always been a little bit too tall for most things. "I'unno, whatever's good?" He's not particularly picky. Case in point, he doesn't really seem to notice or care about the contents of the identical bowl of stew that he opts for, only that it's warm. It's actually a bit of a struggle to keep from wolfing it all down immediately. He's going to flag the barmaid back over and ask what they have by way of beer when she comes close enough.

He's got a hunk of bread soaked in broth stuffed into his mouth when he thinks of something that has been sitting in the back of his mind since he'd arrived and started seeing other people here:

"How'd you get here? Lady in white told me I was dead and yeah, I didn't really need anyone to tell me that, but like...is that everyone's deal?"