"I always get the same thing," she laughs, "it's no different today."
She drops her jacket on the back of a nearby chair, by extension claiming that small table for herself, but really she's distracted by talking to Virgil and assessing what his mood and general attitude toward her might currently be.
Devorah stretches her arms above her head, languid, rolling her shoulders. "Mm, God, remind me never to take any more early shifts."