Like he needed provocation. He matched her pace as they both went flying down the street, not really caring who he knocked down. The further they ran, the less he heard those sounds--the crashing of a building coming down, the screams of the people inside and out.
When they had run six blocks without stopping he finally began to slow down to a stop. When they stopped, he looked over his shoulder for the first time since they'd begun running.
Now that they were far enough away to see more of the area being hit, it was easy to pick out the epicenter of the destruction. It seemed to get worse and worse as one traveled in the opposite direction from the way they'd come. So the real center of damage was, thankfully, elsewhere in the city.
"Fucking hell," he said, pausing a moment to catch his breath. Those people who were still on the street were all looking back at the damage, taking pictures with their phones and trying to catch newscasts in store windows. 'What the fuck is going ON?"