The Beach, Late Monday Afternoon

Anders was still thinking about what had happened in Limbo City when he wandered down to the beach. It was too cold to be near the water, really, but the motion of the waves was soothing.

He kept replaying what had happened that afternoon in his head as he looked at the water and sifted sand between his fingers. It wasn't the fighting that stuck with him -- he'd done that before. And it wasn't exactly the healing -- he'd been glad to have something to do that wasn't destructive. Instead, he kept thinking about all the civilians they hadn't been able to help. Maybe they could have stayed, they could have fought, they could have been just that little bit better -- and maybe someone would have made it home that never would now.

Well. He'd have to prepare better before the next time he got accidentally dragged into someone else's hell. (Which he hoped wouldn't be anytime soon; the sight of an arm he'd frozen snapping off like a branch was not one he needed to see again anytime soon.)

He chewed on his thumbnail and tried not to feel guilty.

[OOC: For one, please!]