Miles scratched his eyebrow using his thumbnail from the hand that held his cigarette, and then stuck the Benson & Hedges kingsize back between his lips. He looked at Morgan for a moment, and tried to think of something to say that meant something. Be it nice, or crude it hardly mattered, he just didn't want the conversation to be empty. He couldn't put up with it if it were. Under all his curse words and hostility their was a spark of sincerity. It was dim, but it was there.
"Good you're here." It wasn's a 'glad to see you' or 'glad you couldn't make it' because he wasn't really. He didn't know how to feel about any of this. "'Cause everything is queerer than a three-legged prostitute around here and I don't know where to fucking start."