The Emissary, meanwhile, was in a bit of a tizzy. See, she'd just dropped in at the hospital only to find a certain somebody not there. Had he escaped? Could he escape on his own? Maybe the Disciple had taken him somewhere. She really hoped the Disciple had taken him somewhere. If he'd gone and tossed himself off the edge or something, she would kick his ass six ways from Sunday. Heck, she might anyway. (She probably wouldn't.)

Finally, though, she spotted a flash of bright yellow lying in the grass, and the troll wearing it. The sigh of relief she let out was long enough to turn into exasperation by the end, and she picked up her skirts and walked briskly to his side... but rather than crouching, she just stood by him with a scowl on her face and her hands on her hips. (Possibly important addendum: there are enough ruffles under that skirt that he ain't getting a glimpse of nothin'.)

"There you are," she huffed. "You'd better have got a damned good reason to be out of bed, mister."