The coat takes him a minute or two, some of it spent considering the door and how easy it'd be to make a break for it. He's not sure why he decides against it. The cold, probably, and the fact that imagining the ensuing conversation with Maureen—"What was going on?" "No idea." "What did you find out?" "Nothing."—gives him more than a twinge of embarrassment.

(And there's something about her scar, how she's acting.)

Anyway, Jupe takes off his coat. He has a vague idea of searching the living room (mostly to say he did it, it's not like he's expecting to find a secret Kid Sheriff shrine), but by then he's wasted so much time it's not really an option. He settles for hastily patting down the pockets of the other coats hung by the door, looking for—who knows? A wallet, a weapon, a crumpled note explaining what the hell is happening...

He joins her in the kitchen after that, taken aback by the normalcy of the scene: the sun sweeping in through the window, the scent of coffee and sound of water burbling in the pot. He pulls out a chair, realizing as he sits that for all his attempts at stalling, he still has no clue what to say. “Um.” He presses his hands together, spreads them apart. “I don't know who you are.” He says it delicately, watching her reaction. Ready to scrap the whole thing if she gets twitchy. “And I'm not—but I believe you. Okay?”