Sinclair smiles at Lee half-heartedly before turning and wandering off. Maybe he’ll head to the run-down apartment building nearby and check on the food situation. Maybe he’ll take stock of the cops’ movements in the neighborhood again. Or maybe he should make a pit-stop at a certain artist’s loft instead.
Michael hasn’t considered how to get back to his apartment. He’d gotten all the way here on foot, but it’s obvious neither of them can get back that way. “There’s… uh, there’s the train,” he says, plodding sluggishly through the mechanics of the working world. “It goes to 9th. That’s pretty close.”