Kitty was at the firing range.

The physical damage from the kidnapping had long been taken care of by Andrew. However, it was the mental and emotional damage that was harder to heal.

The nightmares were the worst and she had taken to doing her best to stay up all night so as not to fall asleep. When she couldn't do that, she found other places to nap that wasn't around people. She didn't want to bother Tamsin or Andrew with the nightmares and the reactions she had upon awakening. Add to it that she knew that Tamsin would be picking up on her emotions each time, and you had a cat that was acting like a kitten.

She was sure that the other victims had probably had worse done to them. She didn't know for sure because it wasn't like any of them had decided to all get together and talk about what had happened. Someone else would probably have to broach that subject because she sure wasn't.

The biggest change that could be noticed in Kitty was that since the rescue, she hadn't so much as left the grounds of the institute. She hadn't been doing her usual things like riding her bike or going skydiving.

But she was spending an awfully lot of extra time at the firing range.

Ororo was worried. She knew that everyone was still reeling from the kidnappings, and things were slowly (painfully slowly) starting to get back on an even keel. At least, people were trying to pretend that things were going back to normal. Which might or might not be a bad thing. Someone would have to ask Adalaide, but Ororo tended to see it as good because the familiar routine couldn't be bad.

But some were handling it worse than others. Ororo hadn't seen Hank in days. Certainly, there were times when they didn't see much of one another besides passing in the hall or the kitchen, but not seeing him for days on end told her that he was cloistering himself. A sensible, logical part of her kept telling her that she needed to just let him handle what he was going through on his own, and that part had won out until now. Now it was the concerned friend who was going to check on him. And maybe she should have let the concerned friend win sooner.

Ororo approached Hank's door and knocked. "Hank?"

The car was a literally a piece of crap, but he was in heaven.

It was a 1976 442 that was rusted over, had no working lights, and had a questionable odour, but the engine ran well, so who was he to complain?  It would make a good summer project for himself, and anyone else, if they so chose.  That being said, he was almost guaranteed to just work on it himself, but he'd promised Ada he'd try to find himself a hobby, something to occupy his time.

This would work.

He had just finished looking the car over, detailing in his head all the things he needed to do, when something caught his eye.  A woman, he'd never seen before, opening the door to what he believed to be Matty's car.

"Hey!," he called out, heading towards the car. "What are you doing? That's not your car."