By the time Solomon stops pulling out supplies it's clear that Torrie will be in cans for some time, and a number of her favorites have made their way into the pile. When she offers him the cookie he shakes his head and draws from his cargo pocket a ziplock bag of black olives which he shakes. It's a familiar snack to Torrie - when they were kids he would stick one on each of his fingers and eat them like candy.
He draws a chair over across from her, sets down on it with the back under his left elbow and his boots on the bottom rung, pointy knees angling. "There's patrolmen everywhere," he says, with a 'what can you do?' gesture of his hand. "Theo is following all kinds of leads around what the girls were doing before they were killed, but I can't say I can see where he's going to get with any of that." It all seems very indirect and vague and... before to Sol, but he doesn't know how to solve murders, himself, so he is trying not to pretend like he knows more than the pros.
So instead he focuses on what is within his wheelhouse. "I'd say I'm safe," Sol says, with a shrug. "I'm not his type and I do know how to defend myself." Between scrapping and boxing and krav maga, he is decently more dangerous than he appears to be, and he can admit there is a part of him that does wish the murderer would try it. He doesn't mention that. Instead he frowns, and picks himself out an olive. "Lita's got a personal detail," he admits. Which sounds scary, but is supposed to be reassuring. He knows how things stand between the doctor and his sister, and he always makes a point to know how she is so he can report. It isn't a hardship - he likes the doc and her dry, direct ways and clever rapport. "She's one of the people he's singled out, but I can't help feeling like that makes her more safe instead of less."