Lancelot had decided, after a brief meeting with Peter, to have dinner outside the hotel. He decided he was going to drive to a Michelin restaurant, where he would enjoy good wine alone and think.
He really needed to think.
So, at exactly 5:45pm, Lancelot was dressed to leave. He let Peter know he would like to have a personal and private tour of the city. It was a lie, he needed the breeze, the buzz of New York night time to clear his head. There was a lot going on in it.
As he drove, Lancelot remained calm - or at least he tried to. He would find a way to piece everything together and...
"Mate!" Ziko's cry interrupted his line of thoughts. Lancelot frowned.
He was going to continue driving, but Ziko's next cry was more pressing, more urgent.
"She's here! Stop!"
Wit
