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Sara has taken a seat near one of the fireplaces, the book American Gods in her hands.

Her good mood doesn't seem to have diminished, and she wouldn't say no to company.

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Parker looks over, tilts his head to read the title. "Any good?"

"So far. Gaiman's a good author."

"Huh," Parker nods. "Never read him."

"Modern fantasy author. Quirky sense of humor, which I like more than anything else." She smiles slightly. "I'm Sara."

Parker smiles, says, "You can call me Parker."

He waves a hand, "Don't get a chance to read a lot."

"What do you do?"

Parker smiles, amused. "Do you always begin conversations with a background check?"

"Occupational hazard, and interrogations are part of my job." She chuckles.

"Cop?" Parker asks.

"Crime scene investigator."

Nodding, Parker says, "DNA stuff, right?"

"Among other things." An amused look. "You still haven't answered my question."

"Ah, but that would take away my mystery." He says, in a light voice, mocking some 1950's ideal, "A man needs some secrets."

"Or you could just tell me to mind my own business." Still amused.

Parker steeples his fingers. "If I told you that, it would finish the conversation. Small talk never has any recovery from rudeness." He grins.

"True enough."

Lightly, "And the conversation is dead. May it rest in peace. Do you want to do the autopsy?"

"I'd rather not. The last autopsy I performed was on a liquified corpse."

At least that one hadn't made her throw up.

Frowning, Parker says, "I don't like the idea of liquification. Cremation, sure, burial," he shrugs. "There's something regressive about turning to liquid."

"Happens more than you think, even with proper burial."

Pause.

"You probably didn't want to know that."

"At least now I know that my inevitable state will be sludge," he says. "I just hope someone as pretty as you is the one who does the autopsy on me."

He gives her a charming smile.

She chuckles. "I wouldn't necessarily count on that. But thank you."

Parker grins. "You work with a lot of ugly people?" Pondering, "That puts a very bad spin on my seventy virgins fantasy."

"No, I wouldn't say that. But most of the coroners I know are elderly men."

Parker shakes his head, says hopelessly, "No nubile young women?"

"You could try one of the strip joints in Vegas."

He grimaces, and shakes his head sadly. "I hear that they're terrible with remains."

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