To Izzy’s relief, Holden said little on their way back from the decrepit school. She silently followed his directions when he gave them, occasionally giving a nod to show she had heard when he directed her well before a turn. She occasionally glanced back at him, trying to be as discrete about it as possible, both making sure he was there during longer silences and wondering what part about the evening consumed his thoughts.
	When they at last came to a stop at a rundown apartment complex, she could not help but blink in surprise and give a gentle, “Huh” she did not think he would hear. But, alas, he apparently heard.
	“Well… that… sucks,” she offered, not sure what to say to his story snippet. Instead, she busied herself with pulling her bike lock from her backpack and locking it up.
	She followed him silently up the stairs to his rather modest apartment. She paused just inside, taking in the almost cramped space, then fully entered, closing the door behind her. She glanced toward Holden, who had neglected any usual courtesies when letting someone into your home before stalking off to the bathroom. 
	She stood there awkwardly for a moment, then, as the sound of the shower reached her, she sighed and opted to deposit her backpack on the couch. She opened it, pulled out a small plastic water bottle she usually kept in there when she did not forget it at home, and went to the kitchenette to fill it up.
	She turned the water on, letting it run a couple moments on cold as she looked around the small place again. She was quite suddenly glad Riley had not asked a higher price for his assistance. If you used it right, a thousand dollars could go a fairly long way. Judging by the state of things, that was a long way she imagined could not be easy for Holden to part with.
	She unscrewed the top of the bottle, quickly filled it up, and moseyed back to the couch. 
	Riley had expected Holden to be a ‘selfish little boy.’  For all she knew, he still was, just in a different way than he had thought, especially if the Crab had that consistent of a pattern. Wondering what had attracted the Crab, or what Holden had done to perhaps somehow provoke it, she took a swig from the bottle, screwed the cap back on, then placed it on the floor in front of the couch. She plopped down beside her bag and pulled out her phone.
	While Holden may not have anyone he needed to report to, [i]she[/i] did. She sent a quick text to her parents, telling them she was going to study with a friend, so would be home rather late, if that was okay by them. Replacing the phone, she stretched, then rested her arms on the back of the couch and leaned her head back. She closed her eyes, listening to the splash of the running water and hoping Holden would not take much longer in his shower.