[For the briefest of moments something in his gaze shifts; it sharpens, and he's fully aware of what that pushed-out word means, and it sends a bolt of something dark and cold through his system before he can really work out why.

But the moment passes, and he's tilting his head a little at her again, and he's smiling as though nothing had just happened.]

Come with me, then, and we'll see about helping you get back. If you'd like I'll go back with you, and put in a good word to Mr. Dixon. No harm done.

[Come on, we're going this way, and you're getting a gesture indicating that you'd best follow.]

In the meantime, tell me about yourself, Miss Sandiego.