His eyebrow ticks up, a grin struggling at the corner of his mouth. It should stay down, but Lyle's always delighted when someone plays with him in any capacity. Roland's probably too easy a mark. He's used to this by now. It's still fun.

"A front, you say? For what, I wonder." He ponders, spinning so that he's facing Roland, but his elbows are on the bar. Only when he's pondered through about a dozen fun theories does he hear the next question. Lyle seems to snap back to reality, as much as he ever can.

"Sully? He's..." He looks, and isn't concerned that the other boy is nowhere near. "Oh, doing a heist, probably." He waves an airy hand. "Where's yours?"