Louis's smile barely drops, but there is a fixed iciness if one looks closely enough. Nothing worse than a writer who hates what he's writing, and Louis has read some duds. But even Michelangelo hated painting the Sistine Chapel... not that Louis personally thinks crime thrillers are the Sistine Chapel. He's pretentious like that.

"Hm, not really my thing. I'm glad they enjoy it though," he lies. "So... former club owner runnin' a general store, that's me. What's a New York writer gon' do with himself here?"