[Now, here is a woman who understands the beauty of pure black magic.]

Your husband's nuts. What better time to drink an espresso than the darkest depths of the night?

[He's a little more measured with the rest of the cup, normal-sized sips. It all looks just a wee bit unhinged when the barista passes over a cardboard box with four additional large black coffees crammed inside, with Godot accepts and tucks under his arm.]

I think I'll find a table. [He's gonna be here a while. Maybe not as long as you'd hope four and a half coffees would take, but a while.] You're welcome to join me if you like, Ms. Wexler.