The Fundamental Interconnectedness of all things

Answering the phone for Maddie’s place is a cushy job, and it’s not raising Dirk’s opinion of his former secretary. Of course, Maddie’s business doesn’t get many calls from irate old ladies wanting to know why they’re being billed several hundred pounds for things like ‘realignment of causal stability’ when Dirk still hasn’t found their lost cat. Most of the calls have to do with opening and closing hours, whether they accept personal checks, the address, and other mundane questions, although she may have lost one customer when Dirk tried to engage them in conversation about the greater butterfly effect in their home dimension as dictated by what drinks people order on any given night. For the most part he’s doing the job well, and happy to work ‘overtime’. He has a chair, and a couple of scientific journals he’s borrowed from Doctor Octavius, and at the end of the day he’s got a bed to go sleep in without the risk of a mad dryad in the neighborhood.
He’ll actually sit and answer the phone until someone relieves him of the duty, comfortably rooted to the spot. One would expect he’d want more mental and social stimulation, but he seems very content just sitting in one spot. It’s possible the lack of exercise and sunlight isn’t a good thing, because he’s today he’s not looking entirely well. His skin has been developing a slightly darker grayish cast to it, when he does move his joints creak softly, and until the phone rings he tends to sit so perfectly still that anyone passing by might feel compelled to check to make sure he’s still breathing.

Dirk's starting to wear down a barstool, still a regular visitor even though Hippolyta's gone. He's not about to turn down an open bar tab to infinity, although he suspects it'll still come around to bite him in the ass some day. He's waiting, inhaling the cigarette smoke in the atmosphere. This isn't technically a date, but he's looking forward to drinks with a woman a decade younger...