Sam looked up to see who'd shut the door to the gift shop (which Sam had ducked into to give himself a breather) and saw MacDonald. "Hey," he said and nodded at the guy, but something about the look in his eyes made Sam wonder whether it might not have been better to pretend he hadn't seen him.

Too late now. So Sam forced his shoulders down and tried to think of something useful to say. All that was coming to mind was pitchfork mobs and the rolls of chapstick on the shelf behind him.