It made no sense for Kurt to be here but even the suspicion it gave the Chief couldn't quite suppress that he was glad to see another II. Even as the visor faded back to mirrored gold anonymity, he swiped a hand across where his mouth would be to form the old signal for a smile. It was brief and perfunctory, but they'd have time to speak later. It was an acceptance, a greeting, and said more than a word would have.

"Agreed."

A voice came from around the corner, gruff but female. "Clear?"

"Clear," John replied. "One of ours."

Arachidamia stepped around and, rather than take her usual place near John's leg, began immediately to investigate the shipping crates. She flicked an ear in Kurt's direction, but that was the only indication his dæmon gave that she noticed him.

How to explain this?

"This is Arachidamia. Long story."

"Not so long," she objected.

"Very long."