Stumbling across in a country he himself hardly knew was hard for Graves, so of course, he went to a diner.

Graves walked into the diner like he owned the place, sitting down on one of the leather stools, his fingers tapping onto the polished wood of the table mindlessly as his blue eyes scanned the menu.

“Don’t see whiskey on the menu,” he commented dryly, finally raising his gaze to meet yours. “…please. My days been exhaustin’.”