Through his walk back, Russell mutters to himself about how best to convey this question. Yes-or-no questions, like Walter was using back at the flat. Simple words, like talking with a fairly intelligent dog. Not intelligent like some of the dogs he knows, but... simple words. He just needs to ask them what they want, so they'll do more than stare and part - or block him - this time.

Or not, it turns out, as he notices the distant squeaking and the solo mouse signaling for him to go in another direction.

"Oh, what's this, then, you just wanted me to see it?" Russell complains, hands spread in an agitated gesture every inch his father's son. "Just wanted to give me a good scare? Well, fine, I saw it, what now."

Sure, he'll follow. But he won't like that, either.