Breakfast wasn't The Mill's best time. As I stepped through the door, I saw only two customers sitting at the bar, a rummy drinking his first meal of the day and Pud the ork. Pud was working on his second red-eye-a mixture of beer and tomato juice that I personally find repugnant-but wasn't so engrossed in breakfast not to look up and give me the evil eye as I came in. I twitched as his gaze passed over me, but then the logical portion of my brain reminded me I hadn't turned on the video pickup during our phone conversation. I settled myself at the end of the bar, five stools away to Pud's right, and quietly ordered a bloody mary from the bored bartender. As she mixed my drink, I considered how I would make my approach to Pud.