[ By contrast, there's a brightness to Koby that Silco knows doesn't necessarily mean ease when it comes to being able to read him and his intentions, but at least gives any observant party a general sense as to which way the wind is blowing. He already knows that he's being watched, that an introduction is just as much information-gathering as anything else — hardly a surprise, considering the cache of notes he's here to see. The only thing left is to ensure that anything that ends up in there about him is what he wants recorded.

Lincoln's attention relinquished, Silco's fingers curl back into his palm, turning over into a loosely-closed fist on the surface of the table. ]

I'm told there's always something, [ he says, voice lilting wryly up. He's already experienced the will of the house, having been thrown into the hunt, but that's neither here nor there in terms of what he's willing to share. ] A pumpkin hunt, I gather, is on the more benign side of the scale.

[ For better or worse, he has looked over the network, and an entire month of autopsy reports is hardly encouraging, especially in comparison to the somewhat more mindless messages that populate it otherwise. ]

Your notes — do you have a contingency in place in the event you're unable to contribute to your daily log, or is the fact that they're a personal recollection more the point?