Henry takes the offered seat. The corner of his mouth curls in a more honest smile. "Straight to the point." Is that the faintest hint of appreciation in his voice? Finally, a hippie he can deal with.
"A shipment of corpses and weapons disappearing leaves a few possibilities. Weapons disappearing aren't such a worry. It's the corpses that bother me." He holds up a finger. "Either someone wants to use the corpses to make a statement, or," he holds up another, "someone wants to arm an army of trained, decomposing bodies."