Chilton tended to the machinery, unplugging it, as his patient readied himself. It was another way of buying Connors some semblance of privacy, as well, considering how exposed the other man might already be feeling -- these sort of aggressive, unconventional sessions could easily yield complicated emotions. But much to Chilton's pleasure, Connors appeared to have adapted to the circumstantial event; he looked tired, for sure, and was clearly worn, but nevertheless polite and as academic as per usual.

It was fascinating.

"Here, now," said Chilton, offering his arm to Connors. "We'll have to walk up the stairs, of course, but I can take you to the back. I'll be a car around to the backway loading docks, and take you home from there."

A car. Not necessarily his car -- Chilton was still scheming for a Porsche. But in the meanwhile? His psychic vehicular driving ability came in quite handily.