In the dim light that spilled out onto the porch, Jim waited. The dialogue unfolding between Anna and the policeman was of small interest to him; he had already considered her wrath, and its myriad consequences; whereupon he took the precaution to deliberate his next potential port of call, in the event of him being banished outright from the house. His finances were limited, but not so short to prevent him returning to the east coast. He was consequently unconcerned with the logistics of his immediate future. What bothered him was the conflict of feelings that swelled up inside of him at the sight of the mutant matriarch. The flicker of relief with which she greeted their appearance was buried swiftly beneath a hard white mask cracked with worry. It troubled him to consider that he and Aimee had it within them to lay to bed at least some of her fears, but for what? To give rise to whole new fears? Or worse, to betray their rescuers? No, that was inconceivable.

"-and, given their story, it sounds like the warehouse and those arrested may be connected to the recent reports of mutant disappearances in the area. Your kids were very lucky, ma'am."

The moustachioed officer was, whether consciously or not, making a solid case for their innocence in the matter. When he got to the part about how they had been snatched cycling to Dairy Queen, a masochistic fabrication of Aimee's design, Jim wilted. Sour thoughts surfaced from the murky depths of anxiety and guilt. Once again, he was at the mercy of police protocol. Anna talked while the officer took notes, and Jim, incapable of disguising his irritation a moment longer, started to furiously twitch. The wait was agonising.