"Breather." The radio crackled as Bobbi tried to find the words for her unexpected report, but eventually she let it go silent, waiting for advice. She hadn't seen anyone with higher brain function on these streets in weeks, and the man that darted through the cars stood out like a sore thumb. "Baby?" she prompted into the radio when she didn't get an answer fast enough. He was safe back at the nest, she knew that, but she needed to hear something before this new guy slipped out of sight. Bobbi already had to lean over the railing of the balcony she had hunkered down on, holding her rifle behind her to balance to try to watch the guy disappear around the building. He might have been coming in here. Shit, shit, shit. Flinging herself down, Bobbi began to collect her station, packing up before the survivor came running in ready to shoot (or swing) first and ask questions later. Or try to take her on for a few cans of peas. She didn't last this long just to be brained by a jumpy civilian.