Her building in Morningside Heights had been one of many to lose its power, stricken in the wake of their battle; so from the knock and the mumbled voice outside her door, Gabrielle was expecting another neighbour or the superintendent checking up on the tenants. Not... Matthew. Especially not Matthew cut and bruised and broken; the surprise was evident on her face as she repeated his name, quizzically, and steadied him with one hand, the other still carrying a candle.

The hallway and her entire apartment were murky, but sporadically lit by candlelight. It took her a moment to see Matt well enough to notice that something was wrong; it was his faltering balance and halting speech which tipped her off, more than anything.

"Are you okay? What happened? What's going on?" The questions came quick, and she hated bombarding him with them even as she tried to help the man into her dim apartment. A slight jolt of fear was starting to rise in her throat. No one knew exactly what had happened to the power, but New Yorkers learned to cultivate a healthy paranoia re: attacks.