”So, they’re like a trip diary, for recording notes and stuff?”
Kit shook his head. “Much more important and much more detailed. This,” he tapped his log, “is quite literally what keeps me from killing myself.”
A tiny vertical line appeared between Margo’s brows. The uncertainty in her eyes mirrored a chain of thought that was almost comical.
”No,” Kit smiled, “I’m not suicidal. Although a large percentage of the population would argue any time scout is. How much reading have you done? Do you know what Shadowing is?”
Margo hesitated, clearly caught between answers.
”Don’t be embarrassed to say no.”
”Well, no. I mean, I know there’s something weird about the gates and time scouts have to retire early because you can’t ever be in the same time twice, but I never read the word `shadowing’ or heard it used.”
As though to underscore her admission, a shadow falling across the table interrupted them. Kit glanced up-and held back a groan. Malcolm Moore had pulled up a chair. “Mind if I join you? This looks interesting.” He glanced from the scouting equipment to Kit to Margo and back to Kit, then grinned expectantly.
Kit considered telling him to buzz off, then thought better. Malcolm’s assistance might actually be useful. He’d scouted a couple of times and had given it up for guiding.
”Sure. Park it.”
Malcolm turned the chair around and sat down. “Hello, Margo. You look, um …”
”Ridiculous,” Kit said dryly.
Margo flushed. “I didn’t have time to change.” She snatched the hat into her lap and ruffled her short hair. Kit winced at the movement of cleavage — and at Malcolm’s interested attention.