[The ticket would be out of place in Nowhere, Alabama; it'd be out of place on the desk of Father Pucci, chaplain of Green Dolphin Street Prison; and Pucci's just as certain it's out of place here as it would be either of those places. But it doesn't do to question--or at least, it doesn't do to ask some questions before one already has the answer.]

[The man standing with a ticket in his hand that matches his own is not an answer of any kind. Twinsies makes his expression twitch into something unreadable and unpleasant, then back to normal.]

. . . So it seems.

[He tips his head a bit, looking Damon up and down. Not for the first time, he's struck with the twin impressions of who's that? and oh, it's that guy. Very frustrating, for someone who likes to have his thumb on the pulse of everything and everyone in his life.]

I haven't seen anyone else with a ticket. It seems like a lot of trouble to go to for just two people.