When he turns to her, he's barely surprised. He should be, but he isn't; that she should be here now seems only right and proper and what anyone could expect. Part of him wants to smile with relief and embrace her, hold onto her, because he's lost her once and in wanting to leave here he can only lose her again.

But this isn't the Florence he remembers, and he couldn't even begin to explain what's happened. What's happening. So he gives her a grim smile, grips her shoulder briefly in the closest thing to an embrace that they usually reach.

"One of our... friends got snatched up by skin traders," he says simply. "We gotta try to bust him out." He nods down the street, towards the car in the distance, a low hulk in the dimness. They don't have to go back to the El cars. There's nothing there for them.

"We gotta get outta town first."