"Come on we gotta get out of here fast."
Dr Douglas rarely accepted help. She had gotten everywhere in life on her own merit and she found it hard to bite her tongue, whilst allowing the girl in the red cheerleader outfit to manoeuvre her out of the area that was rapidly becoming populated by confused cops and rally stragglers, who had come for a slice of the action. But she recognised that there was no way she could make it out alone, even if her leg was healing. She accepted the girl's arm and together, they hobbled out of the alley way away from the bomb remains and down. Eventually, as they hurried on, the police sirens became more and more distant - the cries of the mutant activists had been quashed by the arrival of the higher authority and the patter of rain had begun to slow. Wet, miserable and in pain, Dr Douglas wished she was as far away from that scene - the one that, if associated with her, could destroy her whole career.
Finally - her pride unable to take any more - Dr Douglas forced herself to stand up without the support of the other, running a hand through her hair that had tumbled free from her bun and now framed her face in brunette tangles. She hated her hair down - it made her look younger, and in her experience, people at the University were less likely to listen to her. Habit, she supposed.
And all of this had happened because of a set of forgotten car keys. One trivial thing that had slipped her memory and nearly cost her, her life. She nearly punched the grimy brick wall next to her in frustration - aggression was not an emotion she entertained often -, until she realised she still had company. The cheerleader. Everyone else seemed to have been drawn back towards the alley like iron filings to a magnet so the opposite end of the town square was empty. Dr Douglas was praying that the girl didn't know who she was and tried not to meet her eyes.
"So, um, kid, do you need dropping off at home or somewhere?"
She honestly couldn't think of any other way to act, so she merely resorted to pretending the whole 'mutant-battle' thing hadn't happened. She spoke whilst she fumbled around her pocket, seeking the comfort of her cell phone or glasses (that had no physical use but reassure her, and shield her eyes in case of accidental mutant ability use), but both appeared to have been lost in chaos of the past hour. She sighed, forcing back the tears of self pity that she could feel building.