The door slams shut. Marcus comes back to her side, takes the paper from her and nods. "Yeah," he says, and he's actually cheered by it, "yeah, I can work with this." His gaze slides to her and there's something vaguely admiring in it. He doesn't meet a lot of people who can strategise while in the first stages of possession. But then he doesn't meet a lot of people like Joan.

When she smacks her head again he winces, pockets the list, and grabs what's on the bedside table: buckled cuffs. "Easy," he warns. "Keep it up we'll end up selling half of Judith for the medical bills. Shhh now. It's gonna be alright."