Elijah knew perfectly well that he would have been best off leaving in the midst of the crowd, rather than trying to slip out the back, say - where the most determined hacks would be waiting. He's been in self-imposed exile for a long time, but not so long that he's forgotten how this works.

But he allows Markus to act as he feels necessary, even though he can practically hear the headlines forming, the rumour mill churning into life. It's hardly as if he cares. If he gave a damn about wild speculation about his private life, he might be seen outside a little more often.

The android is going to need some coaching on how to handle life in the fishbowl of the public eye, he realizes.

"Thank you, Markus," Elijah says, with an almost-smile of his own. "Though the vultures outside are going to be feasting on those scraps for days, unfortunately."

Being in a relatively quiet and controlled space lets his elevated heart rate decline a little, his shrunken pupils dilate. He masks his stress well, but the physical tells can't be defeated.

"I assume Carl had no hand in choreographing that performance?"