He shrugs. "Charlie, we're cut from the same cloth, you and I. Being stuck anywhere is no good. We're used to going where we want, when we want. For fuck's sake, you had free run of the Transylvanian Alps, and now you've got wherever the hell the reserve is in Wales. I had all Egypt. They're playgrounds. This is a playground too, but on a much smaller scale. Much smaller, and smaller is limiting. I want the world back again. I want my world back again."

For a moment he tenses as if he might scream. But he doesn't; proper Englishmen (or even improper ones) don't behave that way, and that thought makes him laugh instead. "It's not the worst place to be stuck. I'd just rather not be stuck at all. And I'm not any more; I only have to figure out how to get the door to open on something different. It will."