“Sure. 1 Rue des Carrières. I'll text it to you---and my own contact information, cause callback won't work—if you give me the number you want it texted to? You can't just say 'this one,' cause it's a whole thing. Like the callback thing.” Being honest about picking up the aura of the thing that had snatched Noemi was one thing, and necessary; detailing the ritual she'd used to contact Rick, Sam had decided, was another: a digression. If everything turned out okay in the end, she'd unpack the rite, and gamely, but until everything was alright, potential delays, distractions included, would be set aside. Even if the worst-case scenario of Noemi being somehow consumed or corrupted wasn't a realistic one, she was scared and suffering, and the thought made Sam's guts churn with frustration, anxiety, and an uncharacteristic impatience.