Miles didn't know what it was but the detective came to find the walk to The Widow's Tea Parlor far more straightforward than it had been to reach the Singing Mandrake. Maybe it was the fact that he had been given actual directions to the place, or maybe he was getting used to this place... although from the swooping feeling in his stomach at the sight of the zee maybe not...

Or maybe it was a factor of the clientele, as he got inside the stoic and almost forbidding looking place and took a good look around at the occupants there. Miles didn't dabble in drugs himself, his occasional nicotine habit notwithstanding, but he'd had chanced upon an opium den once or twice topside and The Widow's Tea Parlor certainly rang to that sort of tune. From the muscle at the door to the zonked out guests, dazed and rambling to anybody and nobody the same, the only thing missing was the zen music and smoke so thick you could cut it with a knife. It was the kind of place that they'd want to be [i]real[/i] easy to find by the right sort of people, with plenty hard and hardy people to deal with the wrong sort that might try to muscle in on their turf.

Realizing that he was garnering attention just by being upright and moving of his own volition, Miles adjusted coat and strode through the mess with purpose. There'd be no inconspicuous slinking here, so the only thing was to move with confidence like he had every right to be there. He even nodded to the rather dangerous, near frightening looking fellow who seemed to be the Man in Charge... and managed not to gawk at the horns, though he did give them a long look before turned away to descend into the basement.   

Reaching the rather ornate door, Miles raised his fist to knock... paused, then smiled and gave into the temptation.

*Knock. KnockKnock-Knock. Knock.*

Albeit childish, he half expected the return sound of two knocks and was mildly disappointed when the door just opened without fanfare, and without further ado he strode inside. The place was well lit for one, so there was probably somebody 'home', whether that was the peddler man himself or not remained to be seen, so Miles decided to poke around- forgoing the chairs to stroll the room and see what the interior decorating might tell him about this place.