It was October. Treat was still reeling from the news that he'd been missing for over a week. And besides being ridiculously hungry, there was nothing wrong with him. It had felt like an eternity in creepy carnival land, but certainly not over a week. They hadn't even stopped to get more to eat than a couple of theme park candy bars and jerky. Once they'd gotten out and woken up, the first thing Treat had done was find Kenna and never let her out of his sight. When they got to the hospital, however, they were forced apart and it was making Treat antsy. He'd gotten checked by multiple doctors, had his blood drawn what felt like forty times, and asked to repeat his story every ten minutes by someone new. Couldn't they just get his statement from the first cop? Or did they think he was making this up? Mass hysteria was a thing, sure, but people tended to need to be awake for the hysteria to spread. And the only reason he was feeling hysterical at the moment was the fact that they had taken both his niece and his gun away from him.
Finally, after hours in a hospital room with nothing to eat but hospital food, Treat was ready to collect his belongings and his relatives and get a steak. He only hoped the cats hadn't turned feral. Maybe they actually learned to open cupboards and find their cat food. Maybe. He was anxious about that, too, but Kenna was his primary worry. Doctors had told him he was fine and free to go, but the case may not have been the same for her. Treat tried to tell himself it would be fine, but still he couldn't shake the feeling of worry in his chest. He left the room with his jacket slung over his arm (the only upside of this situation was that he was allowed to leave the hospital on his own two feet instead of needing to be wheeled out like most discharges) and saw Tanith. The tension in his chest eased for a moment and he thought was having a stroke. Wordlessly, he walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. What? It'd been a really long day. Exhaustion. That was his excuse.