"It wasn't a case that broke my heart. It was a woman indirectly involved." He pushed the empty tankard back and forth in his hands. "I broke my own rules. First I fell in love with a whore, and now I am drinking. Look at me." He waved the empty vessel around and then said, "If you want an idiot for an investigator on your case, who am I to say no to you?" Then he reached into his messenger bag and flopped out a pad of paper and a pencil, rifling through the sheaf of paper until he came to an empty page. She might see a brief glimpse of a drawing of the woman who broke his heart. It was clear his heart wasn't in this case of hers, that he was taking notes to appease her more than anything. "What is your name, lovely?" he asked.