Josephine had no idea what had happened. She'd started the evening rather typically and now, her apartment was in flames, a neighbourhood block was in panic and F166 was half-dragging her through hallways and elevators towards a getaway car. As John had made his way to the driver's side, Josephine pulled away from him and froze, leaving a metre of unoccupied space between them. It was all a bit much. People were frantic and armed men had begun to swarm the building. Unmoving, she locked eyes with her partner. "No, John. We can't just leave these people here. We can't. My duty is to protect and serve. Those assholes mean business and if something happens... If-". Her words failed her. The sheer lack of emotion from F166 chilled her right to the bone. Whatever his business, it was enough to risk the safety of the good people of Verdant Gardens Apartments.
Without a word, she begrudgingly slid into the passenger's side and slipped the ammo she'd been holding into her pockets before slamming the door shut in audible frustration. Everything that could've been useful had been in her pack, which was now incinerated along with the rest of her belongings. An angry grunt managed to claw its way out of her. This was nothing new for the two of them. Their time together had been brief, but John's visions and directions had yet to fail her. She utterly hated it, hated that she had to ignore every instinct from every twitching fibre in her being and follow F166's guidance blindly to success. Blind trust, hah. She had seen what faith in the precrime system could get you - a knife to the throat and a traumatized child, that's what. She grunted again as the engined roared to life and the two of them were speeding down the highway to god-knows-where. She threw a sideways glare at her partner.
"You owe me an explanation, John. Hell, you don't owe it to me, you owe it to the terrified people of my apartment building." She paused and made a point to uncross the arms that had folded over her chest defensively, instinctively, the moment she sat down. His intensity frightened her. "I'm not psychic like you, but I know if you could've gone to the Chief, you would've. Tell me why we're breaking protocol tonight." Training clicked on again; it was her speciality. Bullet holes in the dashboard, the smell of burnt rubber. The dried brown stain beneath his nostril, the white of knuckles peeking behind the skin of his fingers that gripped the steering wheel with such vigour, she thought he might rip it clean off the apparatus. Whatever this was, it was bigger than the both of them.
Shadowed scenery whipped past the windows as John kept his gaze steadily forward, offering her nothing but contemplative silence. She understood. Or, at least, she liked to think that she understood. It probably made no sense to him either; the interpretation of visions was iffy at best. Regardless of his reasons and in spite of her belligerence, she was quietly grateful he was there when he was. Without a word, she licked her thumb and wiped off a little of the blood stain on his cheek before settling back into her seat, eyes forward. At least now she wasn't completely useless.