"I knew it was you, Dresden." Well, no. He'd been 99% sure it was Dresden. But it was nice to have the complete confirmation-- he wipes his hand on his napkin, and eyes the remains of his lunch. He'd been planning on saving most of the bao anyway-- had bought the two boxes for exactly that reason, half of them chocolate filled and coconut cream for pete's sake-- and the salad will keep easily. And if Dresden will stop eyeing it all, he'll feel less like he's teasing a starving puppy. The guy could really use a few extra pounds.

He pulls up the mental files, brow creasing because he doesn't have Marcone's recall or need the same masks he dresses up in-- sylphs. Well, Alexander Pope probably isn't the go-to for this one. "Air elemental in the Windy City, huh?"

He doesn't bother to say that all of Chicago is Marcone's territory. No matter what Dresden might think, he's not stupid.