Lestrade seated himself on the couch while Jilly answered: elbows on knees, chin propped on his knuckles, and face falling into a sharp frown as soon as the Malnosso got named. Plenty of the explanation was made up of things he'd read in the guide or heard listening in on entries made by fellow newcomers, and what he hadn't heard, he didn't like any better.

His eyes made the regular journey from Jilly to John (trying to gauge how he was taking it, what exactly did he look so confused about, telling himself that tension is a pretty natural reaction and at least the man is listening) to Sally (who he thinks he's possibly never seen so reserved; something's going on here, but as long as they've not been sleeping together he thinks he can handle it), and he generally finally got around to noticing exactly how cracked this entire predicament was. When Jilly pauses for breath, he nods, bordering contemplative, and doesn't find anything to question or contribute for the moment.