His eyebrows tick up, his expression shifting to a keener interest when Palamedes mentions the assistive gel. It doesn't sound like the same thing as the Bullet, not in application or intent, but the general principle was familiar enough. Something to reveal a bit more of the world than you could discern on your own, a way of pulling back the curtain a few inches further and glimpsing something special.

The idea is fascinating, but the questions will have to wait. When the other man asks for something to write with, Darlington breaks from his train of thought and nods. "This way," he says, inclining his head towards the open doorway that leads to the kitchen. "I know I have at least one notepad in a drawer." It's old habit, carried over from when there'd been a land line in the corner of the kitchen; messages taken down in Bernadette's neat penmanship and his own far messier scrawl, grocery lists and rough outlines of planned menus for the Layabouts' occasional visits. He and Alex might only use their cell phones, but the junk drawer remained.

Entering the kitchen, Darlington finds a pad of paper and a pen, setting them on the counter next to Palamedes.