Tink was a little nervous about leaving the cats there in the house with Anders. Not that she didn't trust Anders--she did--but that she didn't know anything about this Justice. Only what she'd seen this morning, and what Anders had told her about him. Anders needed space, so Tink was giving him space. Tomorrow she'd take the guest bedroom, and he could stay in the master. Or whatever. They'd work it out somehow.
But Tink was glad to be away tonight. It was too raw and too soon to talk to him again about who was sleeping where and all of that. This would avoid that conversation entirely.
Once they were back at Emma's place, Tink pulled off her jacket and let her wings out. Ever since the afternoon when she realized she couldn't fly, her wings were itching. She shoved her hands in her pockets.