How could she even be here? Becker really hated being confused, hated that vulnerability it gave him, but at least if he was going to be in such a weak state there was Abby there. One of the few people Becker truly trusted in life, and someone he knew full well could handle herself if she had to.
Of course, his job was to ensure she didn't have to. But that was beside the point.
Still, he nodded, hoping his expression didn't look quite as dumb as he felt. "By the Portrait Gallery." Luckily not too many children did venture through anomalies, thank whatever divine power may or may not have existed.
He found it incredibly hard to believe that anything wasn't the fault of the anomalies, but Abby was the one saying so, so that meant it was true. So, he nodded, tucking the paper under his arm. Briefly he paused, wondering if he should leave some sort of money, but considering all he had was British money on him anyway, there wasn't exactly much he could do on that score. Still, he sent a mental apology to the shop before he looked down at Abby.
"Alright, do you have a more private place in mind for us to talk?" As much as he desperately wanted answers, a career in official secrets had ingrained in him the ability to very much suppress curiosity until appropriate moments.