It has not [we assume] been as productive an afternoon as she hoped, but that doesn't mean she's gotten nothing out of it. Nonetheless she's all the way across town from her car, and Morgan is in a mood to press her luck.
She smooths her hair back as she walks in -- overtly theatrical, but it's good theatrics; the eye is caught and held. More than one head turns as she crosses to sit down.
But her own eye is drawn, inexplicably, to the mess of a man at the end of the bar. She glances around the room again, but nothing else of interest presents itself, and after a moment she decides to follow the instinct. "Rough day?"