"I've got nothing for him," muses Andrew, jerking his head at Andrew, who's been quiet for the past minute or two. Andrew snorts softly, shifting to get a foot out from an awkward position underneath him.

"I'm glad you found us when you did," he says. "You know, I didn't really -- I'd've gone with you. I still might have if you hadn't...."

Hadn't put a knife to his throat. Andrew falls silent, for once having enough tact not to say it.