7:30 p.m., Washington D.C., a temporary detention prison.
In a cramped interrogation room, Joseph donned an orange prison jumpsuit, yet his pompadour hairstyle remained unchanged, meticulously combed as ever.
"Good evening, Luo An."
With his hands cuffed and sitting in the chair, Joseph looked across the interrogation table at Luo An, suddenly smiled, and asked:
"Could I have a cup of coffee? I'm finding it rather strenuous to stay alert at my age."
"Of course."
Luo An didn't refuse. He got a coffee pot from the prison guard, poured a cup for Joseph, and one for himself, then said with a smile:
"The taste of coffee in prison, I'm afraid, is not as good as what you're used to."
"It's alright; a few sips just to perk up is all I need."
Joseph took a sip of the coffee, the bitter taste accentuating the lines on his face, then set down the cup, raised his eyebrows at Luo An, and chuckled:
