Tim grins, slouching over to a nearby table and dropping into a seat.

"Another stray, Al?" asks the woman at the table behind him. "You got a new one every night, don'cha?" She sounds tolerant, cheerful -- unusual in the world of everyone-for-themselves.

"Ah, they just keep falling int'a my lap, Leslie." Tim shrugs, grinning. "I can't let them go."

"You're a sucker for a pretty face," the woman accuses, smirking.