The walk was more than a little awkward - or Sally suspected it must be; she wasn't thinking much about it herself, but neither did she feel up to talking or pretending to be in a good mood, which couldn't be very helpful to Jilly. It was one more thing Sally would have to worry about later. The present moment was about surviving what might turn out to be a confrontation and finding out what everyone else knew.

She tried not to be conscious of her wings, trapped under her jacket; they felt...safer there, less conspicuous, less a reminder of where she was and what had be done to her in spite of the discomfort. Instead, she focused on what made sense. The prospect of seeing people she knew, for better or worse. The prospect of information, with Jilly's help. Investigate. Put everything into context. She would think of it as doing her job, like always.

The address didn't take too long to find, and when Sally rounded a corner she found Detective Inspector Lestrade waiting by the door. She faltered for a moment, irrationally startled - she'd known he would be there, and yet, for some strange reason, seeing him evaporated the possibility that she might wake up in her own apartment vowing never to eat Thai before bed again.

"Hello, Sir," said Sally, finding she didn't have to force a tight smile - it was good to see a familiar face, circumstances notwithstanding. "This is Jilly; she's been helping me. But I think you might've met."