[ Well, your mother's not here now, is she Saul??? Which is probably a good thing, considering that it is Hell.

Jane's grateful-- maybe more grateful that he could possibly know-- that Saul doesn't press. Even though she came here to talk, what she really wanted was just a distraction. Something to take the edge off the urges she feels pounding on her. Not always. Not constantly.

But loud and almost painful, throbbing, when its there. When she can feel it.

Jane hums quietly and takes one of his arms. Gently, of course. Assuming he doesn't resist or brush it away. She'll even try to roll up one of his sleeves if he'll let her, placing her fingers on his forearm. ]

I think you would look badass with, like, a tribal tat right here. Around your arm, just above the wrist. Before your elbow. It has to be something you can cover up. A teardrop on your face isn't very fitting for a lawyer.

[ She takes her fingers away. ]

Let's go outside. I need a smoke.

[ Her food is sitting there, untouched. She's not hungry anymore. Maybe the demons took too long to bring it. ]