As Riley pondered over her last question, Izzy watched the child leave. Perhaps she had thought wrong, that he had, in fact, sacrificed sleep to watch over her. Concern settled over her face at another thought; were his labored, sluggish steps perhaps due instead to the extra day without blood?
	Her attention returned to Riley when the man thought of a resolution, taking his outer shirt off. Izzy caught it when he tossed it to her, and took a moment to straighten it out. 
	“Of course,” she nodded at his request of the shirt’s return, trying to not make a face at the unpleasant odor it retained. She had smelt worse, after all. “I appreciate it.”
	Thankful for the button-down front, she put her injured arm into a sleeve first, careful to not move it too much for fear of hindering its healing.
	“Thanks, by the way.” She jerked her head toward her left shoulder. She shrugged her other arm into the shirt, continuing as she buttoned it up. “How do we separate the White Wolf from Trevor? And did you find his parents, by chance? I kind of left them in an alley.”