He smirks a little as he wraps potatoes in foil and seasons fresh off the cob corn. "That makes two of us," he says. "I imagine you can guess what Alexander is using Lance's death as an excuse to do." Further militarize the Clubs, of course. Or try. Their new Jack wouldn't let him, and Elisha had spent the year stripping as much authority as he could from the autocratic King of Clubs.

"I doubt you'll give her the satisfaction of making it public," he adds. But then he listens more, and leans against the counter, tipping his head to one side. "You've called David, I assume?" Because if the King of Spades was forewarned...the explosion would be much less.