After another second, Phaedra turned and ran after Sam. If he didn't know York, she wasn't letting him go out to get himself killed. Not tonight, or, for that matter, any night.
He could be running toward anything. He'd need a little help. That handgun would only help so much.
Once she'd caught up with him, which wasn't hard, Phaedra slowed down, eyes darting from Sam's back to the surroundings on the street. There wasn't anything immediate, and that worried her.
One way or another, she was going to have to freak him out. She decided speed was the lesser of the two evils and in an instant fell into step next to him. "We need to get you somewhere safe. Or better armed," she said.