Howard sits back, resting his elbows behind him on the armrest of the couch, balancing the now-empty bowl of popcorn on his concave little stomach.

"Oh God. This isn't going to turn into 'Santa Claus is real and he's an weaponeer', is it?" If she weren't clearly going somewhere with this, he'd ask about the arms dealers - they're who interest him more, because he can see a bit of himself in the picture his active imagination is painting. Opportunists but not leaders. Facilitators but not creators.