A coddle of witches? The word is so oddly charming he can't help but smile at it. It somehow summons up the mental image of a group of witches sitting around drinking hot chocolate and reading books, which he supposes is a much nicer image than the associations coven has. He's about to offer the word she looks for when her question stops him short, and Lancelot lets out a little ah as he regroups.

"We had reports mostly in the north of London, in truth. Oh -- by we I mean... Forgive me, I have not explained this very well. I'm a community officer for North Richmond. We had a few go missing but... when they were found, they were far from our border. I suspect they were lured out to where a door could be open."