Progress. The proverbial domino is pushed. Events are begun and now there is no stopping it; the Shadow's choice is made and all there is now, is the follow through.
The thin, bean-pole of a man nods, accepting Dog's terms.
“A week, then.” It is as much to commit the date to memory, as it is to show that the Mortician is listening. Not the type to linger, David shifts again; this time to depart from Dog's unique company. “A good evening to you both.”
With him, David takes the oppressive blandness that encroaches on the fringes of his presence.
If no one stops him, David heads back to the main thread.