(xcv.)

Pierpont stabbed at the salad with his fork.

He was trying to ignore the fact that the middle prongs were bent backward.

The salad itself was relatively unappealing, with wilted, rusty lettice, and an altogether unidentifiable dressing that smelled like potato chips.

He pushed the salad away.

"Hey. It's you," Lorelei insisted, walking up the aisle toward him.
"You're okay! You're still alive!"
"Well, yeah, I mean--"
"He didn't find you again and try to shoot you again?"
"Nah," she said, waving the notion off with her usable hand.

She sat down in the booth opposite him.

"You got a salad?"
"Yeah, but, it, um--"
"--yeah."
"Yeah."

There was an awkward pause.

"So, what do you need me to do?" Pierpont asked.
"Well, short of killing Chet--"
"--I could do that."
"...no. No you couldn't."
"Yeah I could."
"Well, regardless, I need him, uh, distracted."
"Distracted?"
"It'd be nice."

He thought for a moment.

"When you say 'distracted'," he said, while making scare-quotes, "do you mean you want him dead, or do you just want him to arrest someone else?"

"You really want to kill him, don't you?"
"I think it'd be fun, yeah."