He purses his lips against a wry smile at her answer; there's something funny about its unabashed vagueness. It almost makes him wonder if Zoe's told her anything at all. At one point, he was in agony at the thought of Zoe relaying the experience to anyone, but now he finds that somehow, the memory feels heavier knowing she apparently couldn't even bring herself to retell it to a friend. It stirs up murky guilt at the pit of his stomach.

"Ah. Okay."

Cuthbert eyes the pint glass briefly and then returns his focus to the table.

"Long story short, Zoe had the pleasure of finding me with my gun to my head." His voice is casual, like he doesn't want anyone drinking nearby to mistake their conversation for a loaded one. "There's more, but that's basically the worst of it."

He swallows, trying to keep his voice smooth. "So. I have got to find something to do with myself, Sharon."