Getting a flight off the 'carrier had been a hell of a time, even for her; she'd just caught the last helicopter being dispatched to the mainland, and had overruled the pilot's protest that they weren't going anywhere near New York. They flew over the city, it was near enough to quite literally drop her, and that was all she needed.
Her seabag on her shoulder, she stopped briefly at a liquor store on her way to his apartment; it was only right to bring some sort of liquor when she was going to be staying for an extended period. Besides, it was something of a tradition after coming back from a war zone.
Standing outside his apartment, she shrugged the seabag a little higher on her shoulder and reflected that bringing a six-pack, wine, and whiskey was overkill. But she'd stood there in the liquor store, and had been paralyzed by all the choices and trying to think as to what he would like and what was appropriate; she had no idea what went into being a good houseguest, for however long it took. She had no idea if he shared her ritual of whiskey after a war zone or would approve.
She knocked, he answered, and suddenly, all the question seemed pressing in the air around her. "Thanks," she said as she glanced over the apartment - still the same, thankfully. Carefully sliding her bag off her shoulder, she tucked it under the futon before sitting on the edge and unzipping it. "I...ah, brought alcohol," she said. "If you like. I'll cook tomorrow, repay you a bit."