You'd do best to lie low, of course. As for Auguste, that's his decision to make.

[ He sips his coffee, reaches inside his jacket with a free hand to inspect something that looks like an even more antiquated version of a beeper, one that glows faintly in his hand when he presses a switch on the side. ]

—And me, I see I've already been approached by unsavories who'd like me to operate on your arm.

[ He says this like he's saying he just got a message about someone's dog who just had puppies. ]