The late hour didn’t bring the comfort of sleep that it should have. Nor did the barely dodged bullet of meeting the scientist’s alter ego or locating the young girl — finding her unscathed and just as unaware as her babysitter for the evening. Even the recovery of Bruce’s gadgets and the knowledge of the quick escape they offered didn’t ease in the way it should. Anxiety lingered like an unwanted second hand smoke as she sat with her back pressed against the wall. Almost intentionally seeking it out for it’s discomfort to ward off even the possibility of sleep. Positioning herself as if she were standing guard of both the empty loft that they had claimed and it’s current occupants. From real world inquiries and the ones that they brought with them. It was okay really. She slept enough as it were. Three weeks at a time — and she’d only just gotten here. Dropping her chin, bionic fingers swept across the soft fur of the smallest one of the dogs. The ones who had been as just as big a part of her rescue mission as the equipment and who in spite of learning their names long ago still referred to them based on their stature. The biggest. The middle sized one. The smallest. The steady beating of the tiny heart and breathing pattern offering a reprieve from thoughts that replayed the scene of the maze. The ride afterwards. The damn near whole day delay it’d taken them to come to of which she’d only now had the time to consider. The crease between her brows forming in the darkened empty space illuminated by a lone camping light. Not enough to draw attention but to prevent them from bumping over each other in the dark. Enough to allow her a clear view of the young girls curls poking out from the pile of sleeping bags and blankets — her would be signature pair of plastic shades abandoned in deep slumber but nearby, making the corners of Misty’s mouth twitch upwards a little. For a split second almost smiling until the resting pup lifted it’s head and crept from the tops of her thighs. The sudden movement and disruption of silence by the pads of his paws against the floor echoing in the empty space prompting the detective to catch her breath. Only briefly mistaking the scene to be some fault of her own — too heavy handed with the petting or some other bionic hand offense, before focusing on his path to the large windows and pushing herself up to follow. Ruined blood splattered party attire swapped for less inconspicuous gear, denim, boots and a t-shirt that exposed the crudely bandaged human arm who’s burn and tingle was only now noticeable. Later when things settled more, she’d have him check her for rabies — which by peering out the glass frames and down at the street below at the staggering figure in the dark she had no way of knowing would still be some time off.