For the first time since finding this place, Michael is actually glad to find it. Well, he's glad to find anything that delays a visit to his mother, including fighting a gang of heavily armed heroin smugglers single-handed or being locked in a room with Fi demanding to talk about their relationship or lack thereof
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'Hi, Jane. How's life?'
Being a spy, he has a great memory for names and faces.
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"Quite well, sir, and I fear you have the better of me."
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'Michael Westen. We met here before. I think I was probably a bit more,' he pulls a face indicating 'stressed and angry', exaggerated of course, 'than I am now.'
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Lucky for him, there's no tequila on the table, just a large bottle of mineral water and a glass of ice.
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'Hi. Has it been getting some use?'
There's a nod at the gun pieces.
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"I abuse my range privileges here, I admit. It's my favourite form of therapy. How you holding up?"
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He smiles and pulls his best I'm fine face, that one where he forces his features to look calm, and maintains eye contact.
'I'm doing alright.'
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