He stops—a mistake, maybe, his balance already more precarious. Wipes sweat from his forehead. “I'd planned on taking it slow,” he says dryly, “but—” A gesture their way, carefully contained—as though motioning them through a door. Clearly they have other ideas.

He wobbles to a start again, gradually rediscovering his footing. “Tell me”—a huff, several more steps—“what's the worst thing you've done? In your—in your estimation.”