The man behind the counter looks up to regard the inquiry, both hands busy serving a bowl of vegetable soup to the front of the line.
"Oh! 'Morning, officer. One second."
He sets a bowl down and waves over another kitchen volunteer. He steps from behind the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. His face sinks after he has a moment to rest, betraying his age.
"Henry Moser. Yeah, I heard he was the latest." He walks over to the group, and his voice lowers. "May we speak away from the regulars?" He gestures toward a cracked door, where you can see knickknacks strewn upon a desk. It appears to be an office of some sort.
"Any time doing the right thing is funny as hell, it's probably Chaotic Good."