Dale nodded. Fancy Pants had taken all of his drawings with him when he left. He still wasn't entirely clear how they were to be used, but Lyra obviously trusted him with them. He scratched his chin, frowning at the stubble. I still haven't found a razor. That's going to be a problem eventually. Lyra has some kind of official position, obviously—so maybe it's a contact report or something like that. She must have had to do them after the first meeting. But she didn't have time after the second—she spent all her time at the hospital with me.