*He nodded.*
Heckyl: "This had better be important. I spent half of my research grant for the year getting out here."
*He followed him inside and withdrew a fresh cigarette.*
Heckyl: "Got a light? And some oil?"
(Quick context: Heckyl's right arm is automail, a type of advanced prosthetic that is connected directly to the nerves, though it costs a lot more and requires more maintenance. Heckyl made his arm so that it only really needs oil every once and a while, but he still changes things like screws and bolts every six months, or a year at the latest. As a running gag, he seems to constantly get shorter and taller. His base height is 5'9, but he may shrink inexplicably to a minimum of 5'3 or grow to a maximum of 6'1, though this is only used for jokes. His true height is 6 feet even.)