Finnegan's phone buzzed. From his pocket, a crow croaked—the custom notification sound he'd set for texts from Jack. They had work to do. As he shrugged on his wool coat and slipped a few gadgets into its ample pockets, he debated driving there. In the end, he decided not to. Parking would be hell, and he was willing to bet someone else would bring a car. He hailed a cab.

Entering the coffee shop, he barely spared the others a look before striding towards the counter and ordering himself a coffee, black. Steaming mug in hand he dragged a chair from an adjacent table and sat down (with a clear view of the entrance) next to Max, Jack, and Henry. It was good seeing them.

"Right, children. I hear we've got work. I imagine our lass here is fair excited to finally do somethin' productive," he said, nodding at Henry.