Maria watched on in silence as he produced a bottle of what she could only assume was the supply she'd asked for. Carrying such a thing wasn't exactly commonplace, but if anything was true about either of them it was that neither of them were commonplace. Slowly, she stooped down to take the bottle from the ground, giving her appreciation with a brusque "Thanks," and a nod. Before anything else could happen, the stranger had walked off. She watched him briefly, still trying to piece together his relation to the rest of the night's events. Clearly not affiliated with whatever gang she'd just pissed off, not an Arcarti. Thomas' men? Unlikely, but they were the only other party aware of her presence. The overwhelming dread the stranger's presence gave her only became identifiable as the man was long gone from her: the simplest explanation was another party. The wounded investigator groaned at the thought, and resolved to make her way back to the Crossroads before stopping to think about it. The gang was likely to make their move as soon as they had a chance to, and frankly she as going to get that drink and a nap in the short remainder of the night before handling [i]that[/i]. From the glimmering on the horizon, she could see that the sun was making its slow ascent to the horizon and would be impeding her sleeping habits shortly. Sleep would probably need to wait. A new day was dawning for Mullen, and the clock governing her actions continued to count down.