mund | open post.

[ Arthur is just gonna chalk this up to "important boss-employee relations meeting". For morale or whatever. A few of the other departments had done that, and he's been on the receiving end at least twice. When he was still new enough, anyway.

Graves doesn't strike him as the type, but he's quickly providing evidence to the contrary. So, as his boss steps away to get his coat, Arthur efficiently drops the paperwork into their correct bins, not stopping to watch them fold themselves into origami cranes and flap off to their respective places. He plucks his own coat off the hook, grateful for the thick wool. New York is getting chillier and chillier, signifying autumn is about to move on. ]

Honestly? I'll eat pretty much anything. [ Arthur shrugs, hands already hidden in the warm depths of his pockets. ]] C'mon, if we cut through the mail room, we'll have nearly the whole hour.

[ Not that this place has bad food per se, but he's definitely kept it on his list for the sheer proximity. Easily, he leads the way, not even thinking as he navigates out of their calm office into the chaos that the executive branch can be. There's photo clippings dangling in the air, phones ringing, more paperwork scrolls in the form of owls, hawks, sparrows, fish.

Just another day in MACUSA, really. ]

[ Interesting. Not a picky eater, then. He files that little snippet away for future reference as he pulls on his coat and follows after him, sans scarf. The executive branch of the organisation is its own kind of compressed madness, and he nods when they greet him, moving easily past the flurry of paper animals on their way to different departments.

It's just another day in MACUSA, and before long they're standing before the Thai restaurant. Frankly speaking, he's never had cuisine like this before -- and the novelty of it is intriguing. ]

Any specialty here?

[ Not a picky eater. Not after growing up in a house that was not as well off. He learned to eat what was in front of him.

Of course, now he has his choice, but some things don't change. ]

Any of the curry, honestly. [ Arthur shrugs and pushes the door open, holds it for Graves. A sort of role reversal that makes a small smile curl his mouth up. ] Personally, the spicier the better. The mild stuff tastes good though, so you're not missing anything if you aren't a masochist like I am.

[ Ever one with manners, and ever one to appreciate the same in others, Graves inclines his head in thanks. The interior of the restaurant is interesting; it's not the upscale affairs that Graves is used to, but it'll do. It's what Arthur prefers, and it's not too far off from what he's usually accustomed to.

The hostess shows them to their table by the window, and as they take their seats Graves contemplates him briefly. A masochist, is it? There is much one can learn about another from their dining habits and preferences, and there's a flicker of amusement in dark eyes as he reaches for the menu. ]

So you like it when your lunch makes you tear up.

[ Arthur follows Graves in, settles down in his chair without too much aplomb. The menu, he's practically memorized, so he just gives it a cursory look before setting it down on the table, near the edge.

It's busy in here, being lunch hour and all. Ever the one to know his surroundings, he scans the room, taking in where people are seated, their relation to the exit. Little things he can't break the habit of. Of course, Graves catches his attention again with his comment and a small smile quirks up the corner of his mouth. ]

Good food is worth crying over. [ Not really a yes or no, to that. Their waitress swings by, cheery even if she looks a little hassled. Once they order, she disappears again, off towards the kitchen and narrowly avoiding someone carrying a full tray of orders. ]

Though, I gotta be honest, it's best on cold days. Keeps you warm for blocks. [ This time, he really does smile, dimples showing just enough. ]

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