Shutting the door behind her, Alistaire smiles to himself, teeth glinting, as he walks around the car, climbing in on his own side. "Mackenzie, you can take the evening off after you drop us at the house. I don't think I'll be going anywhere." He addresses the driver as they get moving again.

A short while later, they arrive. The beach house is modest, by Shaw standards. Alistaire has a few childhood memories of simpler enjoyments there, and a larger collection of hedonistic summer nights from not terribly long ago. Every inch inside is tastefully appointed and decorated, but with ample open space to let the sounds of the waves infiltrate and echo. He carries the groceries to the kitchen, depositing the bottle in a cooler and setting the temperature appropriately.