Will spoke and Quin shook her head, eyes dropping back down to her lap when he said that she’d just run out of options. It was true, but that was the whole problem, she’d run out of options and if he hadn’t been there to grab her arm and pull her from the building, who knew what would have happened. She’d have been helpless again, just standing there while everything happened around her and to her.

How did you explain that to someone though? Especially when they were being so nice. When they thought you’d done something well. So Quin just smiled a little and shrugged uncomfortably.

For a minute, Quin wondered if Will was going to answer her question about him. If he’d chosen not to, she wouldn’t have pushed, but after a few moments he said and explained that he could mess with other peoples’ senses. That explained what had happened to the knife guy in the bar. Good riddance.

His were sharp too though? ”So you…heard?” the car before it had flown into the street where they’d have been standing if they’d continued in that direction.

”That’s amazing Will…really amazing.” Quin said sincerely as he prepared himself for her to tie the strip of cloth around his arm. He’d indicated that it was going to suck even more because of his powers and Quin hesitated for just a moment before diving in, working as quickly as she could to get the makeshift bandage wrapped a few times around the wound and tying it off.

There. It should have been tight enough to staunch any further bleeding, but loose enough to not act as a tourniquet. ”I’m sorry…”

"Yeah. Not like I knew exactly what it was, but I heard something way too big, movin' way too fast." Will replied as Quin half-asked, half-guessed that he'd heard the car before they'd had the misfortune to get in it's way. He did, however, shake his head as she said that it was amazing. "I dunno. Like you said, powers come in handy, but they don't feel like they're good for much most of the time."

Will could feel a conflicted knot in his gut at the praise. Partially, well... it felt nice. He'd been able to keep them from disaster, and on some level he -did- know it was because of his abilities and his choices, but... On the other hand, it felt unwarranted, like he was getting complimented for being able to see the colour purple. His senses being amped up was just something that was, not something he did, like Quin had actively managed with Hammer and Bat. He filed those thoughts and feelings away for later, but the 'later' part of his brain was starting to get awfully full. 

"I sho-" Will started to apologize for saying that bandaging the wound was going to be worse because of his mutation, but before he could start saying that he shouldn't have said anything, Quin was already tightening the cloth about his arm and his words cut off into a hiss, the man sucking in air through his teeth as his hands twisted together. By the time Quin finished tying the cloth off, Will was lightheaded and could feel sweat beading on his forehead -- though that could have as easily been from the panic and sprinting as anything else. 

"S'good... Better than bleedin' until I go anemic." Will replied to Quin's apology as soon as he found his voice again, speaking in a strained whisper. Testing things, Will tried moving the bandaged arm experimentally, tentatively. It still protested having to do anything, but the hurt was less sharp and severe. Seemed like the cloth was keeping the wound bound and covered well, and the pressure on it helped to keep it from opening further. "Thanks..." Will said as he leaned back against the pillar behind him, letting his head fall back gently against the stone. 

Will allowed himself a few long seconds to just breathe. The stone was cool in comparison to the air and his skin, and it was solid, sturdy. One. Two. Three breaths. Okay. 

"Okay. So..." Will said, sitting back upright, meeting Quin's gaze as he tried to keep calm. "What do we do?" He asked, trying to rack his brain for any options he could come up with. "Any friends? Places to go?" He placed his good hand on the stone plinth, slowly pushing himself up to his feet. "My apartment's not really close, and well, the cafe's... I could try callin' a coworker, see if we can hide there, but I dunno where any of 'em live if I'm bein' honest."  He might not have been used to being caught up in the thick of trouble, but it didn't change things that much. He just had to find the way out so they could skirt the edge. There -had- to be a way out. 

Well, they were two peas in a pod, weren’t they? Each trying to downplay their abilities and give away all of the accolades.

Will turned Quin’s own words around on her though and she had to acknowledge that having the powers that Will described was probably not as awesome as it sounded. Quin had been really lucky in that department. Other than getting a bit restless when she was surrounded by a lot of synthetics and could hear or feel them, her powers had never really caused her any problems.

”Guess you probably heard me apologize about the game wall…probably should have charged me the table fee in hindsight.”

Was it an inappropriate time to joke? Probably, but what else were they going to do?

Will handled Quin bandaging up that arm about as well as could have been expected but he still didn’t look the best by the time she had finished.

Will took a few moments then, thanking Quin as he rested against the statue and again she shook her head.

A short while later, Will was asking Quin if she knew of anywhere to go and the redhead shook her head. ”Everyone I know is 55th or lower. We can head that way if we want…maybe stick to the river as long as possible?” she said, eyes scanning the area around them until they fell on large spires in the distance.

Will was climbing to his feet and Quin followed, still staring in that direction, wrapping her arm around her middle at the twinge in her ribs, ”What about the cathedral?”

Will's legs were shaky as he stood. Shock, probably. Everything felt a half-step removed and a little fuzzy around the edges, but that was fine, he'd deal with that later anyway. The later bucket was full, so they'd just need to get along regardless. He was thankful at least, that for all the bits of mug and stone Rocky had gifted him, his knees and ankles seemed largely fine. Jeans took some of the edge off the blast too, but he was going to be picking some sharp bits ceramic out of his calf once they got properly settled. 

"Least you had the courtesy to 'pologize," Will gave a weak chuckle, trying to play along with the joke, "'sides, I think there's probably insurance on 'em? Gonna..." Will shook his head as the realization that his job might have just gone up in a cloud of dust and angry hammer hands, especially considering there was no guarantee that the group hadn't done worse to the place out of spite after the two of them left. They hadn't been -chased- at least. Though, to be fair, most of them hadn't been in the best shape. "Gonna... figure all that out later." Will assumed there was going to be a later. There had to be, they hadn't fought tooth and nail to not make it.

Quin went on to explain that she didn't have any easy escape route either. Running all the way to the 55th was a -big- ask right about now. Maybe on a good day it wouldn't seem so daunting, but right now 50 blocks may as well be another state. As he tried dredging up any half-remembered scraps of places he'd been around here, Quin asked about the cathedral as a potential spot.

Will followed Quin's gaze to the, quite frankly, immense gothic church. Straight down 112th and they'd be there. 112th itself looked clear, but Will could still hear echoes of conflict coming from Broadway further up, 113th and higher. When they crossed the intersection, they'd be exposed to whatever was spilling over from where the trouble had started, were the noise was focused. If they were quick, they should be fine -- but that was assuming the church itself wasn't a warzone. Will stared down the street, looking for any movement out of place, anything that looked amiss with the cathedral. 

Not a thing. Serene. Calm. It was almost eerie with the distant sounds of chaos in the air and the dust (or was that smoke?) rising from further up Broadway, towards the university. But it could work.

He had to hope they wouldn't get targeted crossing Broadway. Had to hope Amsterdam wasn't just as bad. Had to hope he could trust what his eyes saw when it came to the cathedral. And he had to hope they'd both be able to make the run. Two blocks. Two and a bit, maybe. Easy, right? He ran that all the time in the park. Easy.

"Yeah. Yeah I think that could work." Will agreed, nodding to Quin. He wanted a minute or two longer to think, to rest, to plan. Honestly, he wanted to lay down and wait for it all blow over... But not making a choice was making a choice to do nothing. There was a chance -now-. There was no guarantee that there would be one later. They could be found. The fighting, chaos, riot... whatever it was could spill out further. Their wounds could be worse than they thought and they might not be able to keep moving once it all caught up to them... Will looked over Quin critically at that thought, at the way she clutched her ribs, the blisteringly fast rock projectile coming to mind. Will didn't know how much that shield of hers had absorbed the hit, but it clearly hadn't been all of it.

"Straight for it's probably best... We can move quiet and careful at first, but once we get near the first intersection, run like your tail's on fire." Will said, as much to himself as to Quin. That'd make it easier, block and a half that way. Not two. Might make the difference.

Will thought that heading to the cathedral might work. True, there was no guarantee that once they got there there wouldn’t be a ton of chaos similar to what they’d left behind in the coffee shop…but anywhere had to be better than out here in the open.

They stood there at the base of that little monument, between the wall and the statue itself and Will said that going straight for the cathedral would be best. Once they got to the first intersection they needed to run? Could he tell with his powers that there was trouble there?

”If you try to tell me your powers aren’t useful again Will, I might have to knock you down…” she said, trying to decide if she was going to be able to run once they got to that intersection. There was no adrenaline, no rush from having just fought and survived. Now Quin just hurt and wanted somewhere to sit down and rest. Quin wasn’t going to get that if they didn’t make it to the church, so she took a deep breath, stopping when it pulled at her ribs.

At least she had her hair up now.

”Okay. Run when we get to the first intersection.”

That said, they started down 112th towards the looming cathedral. Good to Will’s word, they took the first half block slowly, picking quietly along the street and making sure they didn’t draw too much attention. They got to the first intersection though and Quin looked in the direction from which they’d come and could hear the chaos.

So Quin took off running, clenching her teeth as her steps jarred through her sore body. It was only a block and a half. The steps blurred into a haze of exhaustion and pain.

A block. The blur sharpened as Quin’s chest started to burn again from the exertion.

Half a block. Quin didn’t think she was going to make it. It was too far. She was too tired. She could see the steps that led to the doors of the immense building, but suddenly they seemed so far away.

Then she was there. Up the steps she staggered, surely they’d be safe inside.

"We make it there an' you can slug me as hard as y'like." Will muttered, desperate to cling onto some amount of normal in the insanity his day had turned into. Trying to joke, to pretend like putting one foot in front of the other wasn't taking every bit of physical and mental strength he could muster. It was the right choice, he knew, to make this run. To find shelter. But walking -toward- that noise, that chaos, even if not directly, was terrifying. 

And then it was time to be quiet. Step. By step. It felt like a ludicrous kid's game. Or maybe sneaking around at night, trying not to wake one's parents as you snuck into the cookie jar, or peeked at the presents under the tree -- but so much more tense. He was wound so tight he could feel his shoulder throbbing in the makeshift bandage, every muscle was coiled like a steel spring and ready to snap. 

They crept close. The noises were getting louder. Was it just because they were close, the buildings cutting less of the chaos? Were things getting worse? Will didn't have time to wonder as Quin took off like a shot and he followed in kind, a fraction of a second behind the taller mutant. As they crossed fully into the intersection, the sound almost bowled him over, and he made a point not to look, closing his eyes as he ran until the building blocked the sound of screams and carnage again, where he knew he wouldn't see anything.

Dang, but Quin was fast. Will thought he might have her in a marathon, but it was hard to keep up with her longer stride. His running was off anyway, he couldn't get a proper gait with his messed up arm. Didn't matter. Had to run. Had to keep up. He ran, kept pace somehow. 

As they crossed the second intersection, Amsterdam, noised came down from further up towards the University but less than at Broadway. The worst of everything was behind them. Will still didn't look, focused on the doors ahead. Doors were closed. All of them. Good sign for nothing happening, but were they locked? Barricaded? Too late to turn back. As they hit the stairs together, his body felt like lead. The world was threatening to turn into a noisy smear of colour and sound as he ran out of fear to run on, ran out of adrenaline, running on spite and stubbornness and a half-drunk espresso.

He was aware of his arm twined with Quin's as either he'd grabbed her, or she'd grabbed him and they were hauling one another up the stairs. He was aware of the doors looming ahead of them as the made it, somehow to the top of the steps. Will threw his body, shoulder-first (having the send at least to throw his -right- shoulder at it) into the massive bronze slab, almost bouncing off. "Open, you piece of...." The mutant swore and hissed and dug his feet in as he felt the well-kept hinged give way to the desperate pushing of his exhausted legs, the door slowly grinding open, managing  the push it open enough the he could stagger inside with Quin.

She wasn’t going to make it. Quin’s legs were rubber and her side hurt so bad as she tried to make her way up the stairs. Will was there though and Quin didn’t know if he reached for her or if she reached for him, but suddenly they were making their way up the stairs together.

Quin couldn’t think about the chaos down the street, she couldn’t think about the fact that there could be more chaos inside, she was too exhausted, too hurt, too…done with today to focus on anything besides getting inside.

They made it to the top and Will didn’t even pause before he was throwing himself against the door. At first it didn’t budge and for the first time that day Quin could feel tears starting to well up in her eyes. If they couldn’t get inside here…where could they go?

Quin could feel her legs starting to shake. She was just going to sit down here, maybe if she could rest for just a little bit, she’d be able to think of somewhere else.

Just as she was about to drop to the ground, the door budged just enough that Will could slip inside, and Quin followed him.

The inside of the Cathedral was, in a word, overwhelming. Quin was still blinking away the tears, legs shaking uncontrollably, as they emerged into the huge, arched atrium that was inside the doors.

”Oh my god…” Quin breathed, slapping her hand over her mouth as soon as the words left it.

Still. The place was almost overwhelming. ”I really need to sit down…”

Close it. Close it. Closeitcloseitcloseitcloseitcloseit.

Quin was saying something. He'd probably have a sarcastic or pithy remark if he heard it. Well, he heard it, but it was noise. Sounds. He understood that they were words but it didn't reach the language part of his brain. Will put his back against the door, both shoulders, felt the stones and bits of ceramic under his skin yell at him. He pushed with his legs, they yelled at him too. He might have been yelling himself. His feet scrabbled, then caught. The door didn't move, and then it did. It closed with a thud and his moment carried him into the heavy bronze and he leaned against it, gasping for breath. 

Did they make it? Were they actually okay? 

”I really need to sit down…”

Will heard Quin, actually heard her this time, the panic and blood pounding in his ears having ebbed enough that the rest of his brain was working again. Sitting down was a smart idea. He just needed to convince his legs that they wanted to keep moving. The didn't -want- to, but he made them and he was suddenly thankful for the hours he'd been forced to run in circles every week to keep from being able to hear the electricity humming in the poorly grounded sockets in his apartment. 

Come on legs, you can quit soon, I promise. Will thought to himself. Momentum. Use it. An object at rest stays at rest. He was grasping at straws and dimly remembered physics lessons and half-baked platitudes. 

Looking about, the immediate area was just hard floor and open space, but up ahead, maybe 30 feet and a few steps up were a stretch of chairs and benches. 

Will tried to push off the door with his good arm, found it grabbed or grabbing Quin's arm. The distinction was blurry and unimportant and maybe it was both. He used it nonetheless to get to his feet proper and pointed with his bad arm, straight ahead. "There." It was all he could think to say. Then he was off, tired foot in front of tired foot. Each stepped he was either dragging or being dragged in turn. 30 feet felt like 300, but eventually it was 0, and they almost fell onto the bench. Even though it was hard wood and narrow and cold it was the best seat he'd ever found and he felt like crying. And he might have been. But he couldn't wipe his face to see if it was sweat or tears, because one arm hurt and the other was stuck to Quin and it didn't matter anyway.

Quin barely heard the door shut when Will pushed it. Her sole purpose was staying on her feet and not passing out in the middle of this absolutely stunning place of worship.

This absolutely stunning place of worship that seemed to have very very few places to actually sit down. Quin really didn’t understand how she’d managed to make it here on that run. It had hurt so bad and she’d been sure so many times that she wasn’t going to be able to take another step.

She was here though, they were here, and Will still had a hold of her arm. Unsurprisingly, he noticed the chairs before she did and as Will pushed off from the wall, Quin followed him, feet dragging as they approached the first truly safe space they’d found since they’d left the coffee shop.

The benches weren’t necessarily built for comfort, but they were a place to sit that wasn’t the floor, wasn’t outside, and for as huge as this building was, it was quiet.

They sat and Quin felt those tears starting to well up again, but this time it was relief that was driving them instead of despair.

They’d made it, and at least for now, they were safe.

”We made it…” Quin whispered, slumping slightly on the bench, too exhausted to know what else to say.

Will wasn't religious by any stretch of the word, but he was considering saying a prayer of thanks for the thick walls and heavy doors of the cathedral they'd managed to find sanctuary in. In spite of the chaos outside, the screams of people, malicious, panicked or pained, it was quiet. He could only imagine the people that were supposed to be here had vacated. He could only hope that whomever had been here was safe now.

It was calm, finally, blissfully calm. His rattled senses could finally begin to settle, instead of bombarding him with sensory stimuli so fast and so intense it made his head throb. It was quiet. The light was steady, calm. No movement except for them. The air was still, the ground was still. Taking a breath... well, he could still smell sweat and blood on them both, but... the church was oiled wood and ancient stone and the smell of old candles and incense. 

Slowly, the steel coiled knots of his muscles slackened, going from a taut bundle of nerves and arching limbs to shaking like a leaf on the bench. Will's one hand was still wrapped around Quin's forearm, clinging to her either like a lifeline or like he was worried she'd vanish if he let go. "Yeah..." Will answered, dazed, almost not believing that they had made it somewhere safe, even temporarily safe. Even so, the tension wicked away steadily now that they were out of direct danger.

Trying to take a deep breath, it hitched, turning half into a sob as he choked it back. "Sorry..." Will apologized, gingerly raising his sore arm to wipe at his eyes. It wasn't so bad if he bent it at the elbow, just couldn't use the shoulder or bicep much right now. Later was starting to catch up, it seemed. Will took another breath, slower, more careful, let it out slowly. Sniffled and wiped at his eyes again -- he could hold off later for a bit more. 

"You holding up?" he asked Quin, hoping his voice sounded more steady than he felt. Will wasn't 100% sure if he meant to be asking her if she was okay physically or mentally, being concerned for both.

She was in shock. They were in shock. Quin knew it, and while it probably wasn’t in the purely medical sense, it was the same eerie calm that made her want to laugh and cry and scream and sleep all at the same time.

That little sound that escaped Will made Quin realize that they were in the same boat and and as he apologized she shook her head, a few of the tears from before spilling over before she could do anything about them. Raising her free arm to wipe her face with a shaking hand, Quin took a deep breath that ended in a little hiss.

Yeah, something had definitely happened when that rock had hit her. Surely nothing was broken, people couldn’t run like they’d just run with broken ribs, but it still hurt. Quin didn’t want to know what it looked like.

Was she holding up?

Quin turned to look at Will for a moment then looked down at herself, at her filthy and torn clothes, the blood she could see streaking down her legs from where she’d been cut, the mess she knew her face and hair were.

And she just had to laugh. It wasn’t a loud laugh, but as she sat there, not sure what the hell had happened over the last…however long. Quin turned her wrist in Will’s grip and gave his hand a little squeeze before she let it go and reached up to try to fix her hair again.

”I’ve been better. I’ve been much worse. How about you?” she said.

"Nothing's broken, at least." Will answered, flexing both his hands open and closed after Quin had let go of him. His left hand hurt, and the slivers of glass in his palm were driving him crazy, but without tweezers, steadier hands and a lot of time, there wasn't much he could do about that. The right was fine, fingers a bit sore from clutching onto Quin's wrist for dear life, but otherwise alright. Overall... he felt about as bad physically as he ever had. He could tell without looking he was bleeding and bruised across his back and legs, and his left arm felt heavy with how much the knife wound hurt. Mentally? He was tired past the point of being numb, raw and sore and he felt like he was made of spun sugar or glass. 

"'bout as bad as I've been though, if we're bein' honest." Will gave a bitter laugh and a weak, vulnerable smile, rubbing his eyes with his good hand, the trembling in his limbs making his movements clumsy. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling the strands stuck to his forehead back and slicking them across his head. 

Ow. He'd forgotten about the chunk of hair and scalp that Knives had taken as a parting gift, the tiny cuts at the back of his head from Rocky's last shot. Jeez. If anything bigger than the tiny shards he felt had caught him in the head...

Nope. Nope. Nope. Later. Didn't matter how full the bucket was, that was a later thought.

Will wiped his hand off on the thigh of his jeans, not wanting to know what parts of the wetness on his palm were sweat and what was blood, just letting the denim scrub away the evidence. He must look a mess. Quin looked, well... She looked like she'd been through what they'd both just been through. However long it'd been. 5 minutes? 5 hours? 

"Hope the clergy doesn't mind us bleedin' on the benches..." Will muttered, adding a quiet laugh himself. It wasn't funny, but he didn't know what else to do but laugh. Cry? Scream? They felt appropriate too, but Quin was still trying to make light of things. To laugh. To try and keep spirits up. 

Will let the silence hang for a long few moments, picking unsuccessfully at a bit of rock embedded in his forearm, trying to get it out before he spoke up.  "Serious though... You got hit worse than I did back there, you sure you're alright?"

Will felt as bad as he’d ever felt. That was…good and bad, Quin decided. It was good because it meant that this sort of thing wasn’t normal for him. That was definitely a good thing. The average person shouldn’t be a magnet for trouble. Bad things shouldn’t seem to happen just because they were present.

This wasn’t the worst that Quin had ever felt. It was the worst she could remember feeling physically, but it had been so much worse to wake up on that table in the stark white room and not know anything. At least she knew what had happened here, knew why her clothes and skin were bloody. She had bruises and cuts and wounds that matched the damage to her clothes and she’d know what caused them all.

Closing her eyes for a minute and taking a deep breath, Quin pushed those thoughts away. She was exhausted and she was spiraling. Now wasn’t the time.

The clergy? Will was joking about the clergy and blood on the benches. Huffing a small laugh, Quin cleared her throat, ”Churches have been providing sanctuary for hundreds of years. If we don’t belong here, I don’t know who does.”

Will was digging at his forearm now, probably trying to get a piece of rock or ceramic out. Quin could feel them too, every time her jeans brushed against her hip or her calf. Her side or shoulder. He asked her again if she was okay and Quin shrugged, ”I…did not get stabbed” she said, ”I think my ribs are bruised…” she said, a”And I can’t see how bad this is,” she said, turning her head to show will the scratch or cut that stretched along her cheek. ”Am I going to end up with a bad assed scar?” She didn’t have a single scar. This would be a nice story to tell along with it. Far bette than the one she’d been thinking of earlier.

That said, Quin studied will again for a moment, ”What about you besides the knife? I know that’s not all.”

Quin said she thought he ribs were bruised, but she couldn't tell how bad things were. It sounded like she was pretty sure nothing was broken at least. But he'd have been equal parts impressed and terrified if she'd been managing to stay upright with broken ribs, let alone the running they'd done. He didn't know much about first aid beyond cuts and abrasions and burns. Cracked or bruised ribs were outside of his scope of knowledge. Did you mostly just leave them be? Wrap the person up like a mummy? Even if he knew, they didn't have anything to help. The church probably had -something- somewhere...

Will made a point of squinting at Quin's cheek as she showed the cut across her cheek, as though he were inspecting it thoroughly. Well -- he supposed he was looking more closely by default than most other people would be... Not important. "Well, if you pick at it when it heals, maybe. Be a story to tell for sure, if it does scar, 'bout how you saved some scrawny barista." Will gave a weak chuckle at the attempt at humor. Joking made things a little easier, even if the words rang a little hollow, he could smile at least, and it was starting to feel a bit less forced. He'd managed to work out the pick of... something, a half inch long sliver of sharp stone or ceramic that he stared at with equal parts interest and contempt.

Quin asked him if anything else was bothering him, besides the wound on his left arm, where he'd been... cut? Stabbed? Hurt with the knife from the thug he'd been struggling with. Will gave her a non-comitial shrug, pausing a moment before realizing Quin wasn't liable to take it as an answer. "Arm's the worst, for sure. Bit banged up from scuffling with the guy. Head hurts." That part was more than just the missing hair and the rocks that had caught him in the back of his head, trying to keep on high alert had left him with a throbbing headache as well. "And that one guy got me pretty good as we were getting outta there." Will waggled the shard he'd freed from his skin in demonstration before tossing it to the floor. 

"If..." Will started, hesitated, then kept going. "If your ribs are real bad, I can help. Sorta." He raised a hand tentatively, but kept it close to his side, the mutant's brow furrowed in thought as though he wasn't 100% certain, but plugged on anyway. "Make things hurt a bit less anyway." He could still do that, right? His ability to debility someone's sense of touch wasn't so nuanced it'd just be -pain- he'd be dulling, but he could explain that if she agreed... Assuming he still remembered how to, anyway. The trick with Knives was easy. No finesse, just pull as hard as possible. This would be harder. 

Quin shook her head and laughed a little when Will tried to say that she had saved him, ”That was all you Will. That guy with the knives was coming right for me after I got clocked with that rock.” she paused a minute and tried to suppress another one of those slightly hysterical giggles that was trying to escape, ”At least if you can’t go back to working at the shop for a while you could probably sign on as new pitcher for the Yankees. As long as they let you throw coffee mugs.”

Was it appropriate to joke right now? In a church? When there was so much chaos outside? No, probably not, but what else were they going to do? Besides, Will could downplay his contributions all he wanted, but he was not going to outright fib about what he’d done.

The laughing hurt though and Quin reigned it in quickly as Will began to explain his other injuries after an initial shrug.

Had Will gotten hit in the head? Quin frowned as he commented that his head hurt, head injuries could be tricky. To be honest though, her head hurt too. Pretty much everything hurt, and as Will held up a piece of shrapnel that he’d pulled out of his arm, Quin winced as all the little places she’d been hit seemed to flare.

She’d been just about to ask about Will’s head more when he spoke and Quin’s eyes darted to his before looking down at his hand.

He could help? With his powers? Part of Quin wanted to immediately argue that she was fine, that she didn’t need to dull the pain…but, god she hurt. Maybe…maybe it would be nice for just a little bit.

”Okay.” she said softly, ”But what about you? Does it work on you too?” it didn’t seem right that Will would help her and get nothing out of it himself, ”It's not going to hurt you or anything right?”