That was not the answer he was expecting. He wasn't sure what answer he was expecting - perhaps something about setting one of her heroes on the path of politics - but not 'we'll talk about it inside.' Not with a wide eyes and a slack jaw.
He followed her into the house with a keen, wary look about him as he didn't follow her motion of pulling of his shoes. Distracted as he was, he didn't pull off his jacket either, instead closing the door behind them and standing at the threshold.
"I'd rather an answer," he replied staidly. The first name in his mind was Huxley, but that was quickly erased - she'd take a delicious sort of vengeance in that, not wide eyed shock. An ally perhaps, but an ally--
Alistair's eyes narrowed slightly. "You must have someone in mind."