Authority was a costume, to be dipped in and out of, but never worn long. Jude's smile was unstinting, with a sly cant that was almost conspiratorial. Almost. He liked the job. For now, anyway.
He leaned on the bar now, partly out of interest - whoever brought whiskey in a flask to a bar was clearly some flavor of 'distinct' - and partly because there was no one else demanding being served presently. He dutifully listened to her diatribe, and the smile flickered at the corners, and Jude regarded her as solemnly as a choir-boy.
"Never. I don't litter, either." The latter part was true: littering indicated you were present and often Jude didn't want to leave traces of wherever it was he'd been. Littering was for those privileged enough not to care.
It wasn't saving the earth style motivation, but hey. Fringe benefits.