The half-second it takes Numbers to transform from a half-zombified state to shoving at Wrench like he's itching for a fight is enough to give the tall man whiplash. He's so immersed in trying to figure out what the hell is going on that he recoils visibly from the smack, and then crab walks himself out of his partner's path entirely when Numbers comes up swinging a second time.

Whatever memory has suddenly jolted him loose from the fog, it's still coming. Bits and pieces of the story emerge from Numbers like he, too, is sorting through the rubble of something he's only just starting to put back into place. So despite the flash of annoyance that runs hot through him and the knee-jerk desire to pin the man into one place, Wrench lets him go. Lets the story come out however it needs to.

When it does, his face shapes into a hard scowl. Without me? Wrench seems surprised by that, unaware of how much of a theme it will become over the next few weeks. Why? It might seem like he's asking why he wasn't included, but too soon he's clarifying. Why the fuck would you go to the police?