Ford swallowed and shifted his weight. "No," he admitted, though he wasn't sure how else he was going to explain what he was doing at this desk. He couldn't have said yes and risked her conveying that message to her brother. He wouldn't have had any details he could have provided her, either, if she'd pressed him for any. I was hoping maybe we could take our clothes off in a supply cupboard, actually, could you let him know for me?

But he had to say something else, because this department was not on his way back to the atrium from the Spirit Division, so it would be obvious to anyone who gave the matter any thought that he'd come out of his way to get here, and presumably for a reason. But what sane, rational reason could he have had for wandering up to Dorian Fisk's desk and picking up his scarf, after he'd gone home for the day?

"I was just getting his scarf for him," Ford said hastily. He had briefly considered saying that it was his own scarf, but thought there was a chance Miss Fisk might know better, and he didn't want to push his luck with this lie too much. "He forgot it."