For his part, Archie had had a much more unremarkable morning. The return of their climate and terrain to the tropics delighted him nearly as much as the loss of London wounded him. It was, in his estimation, a fair enough trade: just enough of a taste of home to satisfy him without making him long for a return.

He had celebrated by helping himself to pineapple for breakfast. A plate of chopped fruit in one hand, a cup of hot coffee in the other and Styles trailing obediently at his heels, he had settled down in the IPD office for some light morning paperwork. Between the two of them, Kennedy spoiled the dog a great deal more than Bush would even consider and was offering him a bit of pineapple -- which Styles sniffed at cautiously -- when he heard the sound of footsteps heading toward the office. Often times, those footsteps turned out to be someone about their business in the lab or clinic. But now he looked up to see a tall man being followed by Kate Freelander.

Lovely.

He sighed, too quietly for anyone else to hear, and let the bit of fruit drop to the floor behind his desk, out of sight, so Styles could decide what he wanted to do with it. Kennedy pushed his own plate away so as to fold his hands and lay them on the desk.

"And how may I help the two of you this morning?" he asked in a pleasant but not overly chipper tone.