Abel had gotten up from his spot on the bed to open the door for room service and to put the clothes on the edge of the bed. He was back in the chair, sitting in it backwards and eating something that looked like it had been drowned in chocolate, ignoring the real food that had been brought in for now. It's varying levels of ridiculously expensive foods, but Abel had apparently gone smart with his money and picked things that came in large servings instead of the tiny things usually served in high class places like this.

"It's not really lunchtime," he said in between eating, looking less like the frightening Enforcer he was and instead the twenty-something he had died as. "Take your pick with whatever. Except for this. This is definitely mine."