Oh yes, that corner-shaped corner in the corner. Chicken coops go in corners. Richard furrows his brows, arms akimbo. At the surface, at least, he looks he could be an authority on just about anything, including coop placement. The vest helps.

“It looks -- suitable.”

???

He stoops to move his satchel off the mesh, carrying it to rest at the back door. Or the side door. Whichever one it is they keep sending him to that isn’t the front door, for some reason.

“I’ll follow your lead.”