The coffee may have been better, but it was distinctly poor comparative to that which was served in the diner on the other side of town. Max was lucky that his location (central) and the welcoming paint-job (discernable lack of unknown, sticky substances on the wall) factored in to people's meal decisions, or he would have been struggling with lack of custom. But the slow custom was pace enough that Max could linger over one customer or another, in a way he imagined was usual for small town diners.
"Hours?" Both eyebrows rose and he made a thoughtful noise against the rim of his coffee mug. Max never could tell how bad the coffee and food was that he made, because he had never made it before moving to Repose, and never paid that much attention to what he was consuming. "Practice. Lots of it. And remembering the clues from old puzzles."
He laughed, a surprised, pleased sound. "Close. Lawyer." Max's face was suited to amusement. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened, and the smile was broad and full and unstinting. "I'm retired."