Howard slips in and closes the door quietly behind him.

"Making friends for the Buffster?" He does that awkward shifting-his-weight thing he's so accustomed to when he isn't sure what to say, that rocking from side to side on his feet.

He can see the gleam on Wyatt's wrist. Somehow, it's not as comforting as Howard thought it was. Instead it just makes him swallow, and the motion goes down his esophageal muscles like slime dripping down the side of a gutter.

"You too, huh?"