"You know how to reach me." Booker wasn't sure if he would reach out himself. He would spend the day debating whether this was a good idea or not and if he should let the others know.

No contact though. One hundred years loomed large in front of him empty as hell and painfully lonely. Here was a chance to talk to someone who understood and probably wouldn't turn him over to someone for experimenting.

"Take care of yourself," he said. "I'll handle the bill here."

Being a high end mercenary paid well, probably better than someone working for the police.