"All right. I'll make you copies of what we've got this week. It's in a box in my new room somewhere." She'll figure out which one and where when she gets home- they're newly moved in and she's been unpacking as she needs things, by and large. It had seemed important to have those papers, but they've largely sat untouched since making the duplicates and putting them away.

Maybe there's something useful in there. Maybe it's just pages and pages of bile that won't tell them anything but far too much about the inside of the mind of whoever wrote it.

"Try not to get maced again in the meantime," she suggests, 'helpfully', lifting her chin under his hand.