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Chicago has pulled another bit of insanity that makes surviving the Rift number-one priority over just about anything else, and by the time people start spilling out of their sheltered hiding places and the streets are clean, Peter is sick of being bloody, sick of scrambling for bullets, and more than anything, or so his stomach says at the moment, sick of grabbing just enough of whatever can be eaten with one hand on the trigger to keep himself standing.

He heads back into the shelter with the sole thought of finding El, a meal, and a bed, but a pale figure in the corner draws his attention on the way, and there's no way he can just go collapse without feeling guilty if he passes by.

Forty minutes later, he's managed to get Scarlett to both smile and insult him over a burger and fries, which Peter considers pretty much a success.