He walked back to the living room and slid his jacket on, providing just that much more bulk to bury the line of his uncovered arms.
Alistair wondered if this part was going to be in the history books: a series of seemingly crackpot schemes hatched in a kitchen. He needed help, he knew, and that would be the first step. Tracking down assistance.
He patted his pocket for his own house keys and nodded that he was ready to go. To be deployed. Insanity.