Judging by the look on Anderson’s face, he didn’t know the saying. Maybe it wasn’t as common of a phrase as Abner had thought. Maybe it wasn’t a common phrase at all. He scratched anxiously at his throat, struck by the sudden realization that he’d probably said too much. If his superiors found out—

No, he couldn’t think about that. Not now.

“Your assistant?” he said quickly, jumping on the chance to change the subject. “I’m not trained for police work, but I’ll do my best to be useful, sir. Are these clothes okay, though?” He looked down at his uniform, green fatigues with the Enclave’s insignia stitched proudly on the chest. Not exactly fit for a police officer. “I don’t want people to recognize me. Especially if they’re involved in this whole thing. I’ll be decommissioned for sure if there’s another unauthorized murder.”