Bless him for being the brilliant being she's always known him to be. He doesn't say or do anything and somehow, by some miracle, they manage to get out of there without raising suspicions. All it would take is a single phonecall to...

She rests her hands on the steering wheel purely out of habit, grateful that Knock Out is the one in control; they'd have still been sitting in the driveway if it were up to her. Reaching down to pick up a few bits of chaff from beside her feet, she too carefully moves it to the backseat, trying to gather her thoughts in the few seconds it buys her.

"I tried making a few calls but none of the numbers worked," she answers finally, eyeing the newspaper on the passenger seat. "And then I saw the paper and—" She covers her eyes with a gloved hand. "I don't understand how this is possible."