Foreman headed out as soon as he had his coat. He didn't miss Amber's glance when they were both at the admit desk, but he tried to contain his answering smile. Outside, the temperature had dropped enough that his breath rose up in a misty cloud. Despite that, he stood outside the clinic for a minute, breathing and taking in the world. It wasn't something he bothered with most of the time. Too rushed, and what was the point? Nothing had changed. Tonight, though, the damp cold revived him, left him alert. Pulling on his gloves, Foreman headed for his car, wanting to have it warm by the time Amber joined him.

He frowned when he reached it. Some idiot had stuffed a sheet of paper under his windshield wiper. It was bright orange, or he might have thought it was a parking ticket. He snatched it up, hoping no one had hit his car, even if they'd owned up enough to leave their insurance information. It wasn't that, though. Just an advertisement for some Howl-I-Day Festival Fun, in a park downtown, which looked incredibly juvenile. Foreman climbed into the car, started it, and turned on the heater. There wasn't a garbage can nearby, or he would have pitched the notice. As it was, he tossed it on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat, to throw out when they got to Amber's. He turned on the radio to his favourite classical jazz station and sat back, hunching up in his coat, to wait for her.