In the darkening evening, Lance stood out behind the agency building, holding a smoldering cigarette in between his fingers. He rolled it absently back and forth between his fingers and then brought it to his mouth. Not thinking about anything at all, oddly enough, sometimes helped him think. Every once in a while, an epiphany would hit him in the middle of a smoke break, and he would know what to do next, or the solution to a problem.<br/><br/>Sometimes, though, a smoke break was just a smoke break. He took one last breath and sighed out smoke. Lance turned back and entered the agency again, pausing to grind out the cigarette in an ash tray and discard it. As he did so, he heard the door click and Jonathan's voice immediately after. He instinctively tensed at the door, but forced himself to relax. It was nothing. "Present," he called from the back of the building. Then he moved towards the front of the building.<br/><br/>He emerged in the main room as Nikolai asked his question, the same one Lance had. He said nothing, only arched his eyebrows quizzically at Jonathan. A new case would be welcome. If he went too long without some kind of task, he got too tightly wound waiting for something to focus on.