Twain stood outside the gates of the Wilford training base. Ian MacDonald noticed that he had stood outside for several minutes, but had not come in.
"Tony?"
Twain turned to look at the old guard. "Evan's not here yet?"
MacDonald shrugged and shook his head. "It is only eight o'clock, he won't be here this early. He's been coming in at nine o'clock for the past week or so."
Twain nodded and walked towards the guard's room. "Do you mind if I sit here a while?"
MacDonald opened the door. "No, I don't mind at all. Sometimes it's pretty boring to sit here alone. It will be nice to have someone to accompany me and chat with."
Twain stood at the door and looked at the small guard room with a chair, a table, several spread-open newspapers, an antique-looking radio, a water glass, and a kettle. The room could not sit two people at all; there weren't even enough chairs.
He simply leaned against the door frame.
