Life on the run had been surprisingly uneventful lately. If he was being honest with himself, Quinn would have to admit he'd actually been starting to feel restless. Usually for him, surviving required sleeping in a different place every night, moving from one city to the next without rest, keeping his head down at all times and searching for leads regarding where his sister might be whenever he got the chance. He was essentially a fugitive trying to avoid capture, and he rarely got the chance to stay in one place for a week without someone getting suspicious and asking questions, sometimes even calling the police on him. It felt strange- he was even staying in an actual apartment instead of squatting in an abandoned building or sleeping at a bus station, and the thoughts that bombarded him from every direction had started to become familiar. He could recognize the thoughts of the old woman who lived next door to him, could tell them apart from those of the man living a floor below him and those of the man's girlfriend, and the thoughts of everyone else in the building formed a collective, incessant roar in his mind as usual, but it was still pretty impressive. He hadn't been able to familiarize himself with anyone's thoughts and pick them out among all the other noise since- well, since before he'd run away from home. Since before his sister had been taking away. There was no way he'd start dwelling on that again; reliving the past and getting overemotional about it wouldn't help his sister in any way. Quinn shook himself out of his thoughts, literally shaking his head in an attempt to dispel the memories his current train of thought was bringing up. The motion caused his heavy sound-blocking headphones to shift and almost fall off, and just as he readjusted them a thought hit him, one that wasn't his own. Can't believe we're taking in another freak. Second one we've had to deal with this month- I'd better be getting a raise for this. The thought just barely stood out among those of everyone else nearby, but he focused on it immediately, crossing his bedroom to look out the window at the crowded city street below as he tried to pick up more. The same person as before was now sending out a silent prayer that the "freak" he was about to help arrest wouldn't be violent, because he didn't want a struggle, he just wanted to get off work and head home. Even as he processed this, Quinn stared down at the street, muttering a curse at the sight of two police cars and an all too familiar large, armored vehicle. How had they found him? He'd known it was a bad idea to rent an apartment, but the landlord accepted cash and only took the briefest of glances at his fake ID, not even bothering to meet his gaze as he'd prepared contracts for Quinn to sign and then shown him to his rooms. It had seemed safe enough. Apparently it hadn't been, not if the police had somehow found him. Uttering another curse- or several- as he strode towards the fire escape, he picked his backpack up off the floor, stuffing the few articles of clothing strewn about inside and taking out his pocketknife to hold onto while he climbed out the window and began descending the stairs of the fire escape. It wasn't as if Quinn really knew how to use a knife, as he'd barely had any experience with weapons or fighting at all, but he kept the pocketknife with him at all times anyways, and always held it close in emergency situations like this, hoping it would somehow prove useful if he needed to fight someone off. His scuffed up backpack over his shoulder, headphones still on, and knife clutched tightly in one hand, Quinn rushed down the flight of rusty metal stairs and tried to focus on the thoughts he was hearing despite how much harder it was to focus with panic flooding his senses. There were at least two police officers, he knew that, and based off of the thoughts of the first man he'd heard, they were accompanied by a trained government agent, presumably someone who had experience with cases like these. They were only on the second floor now, three floors below Quinn's apartment, and they were breaking down someone's door without even bothering to announce their presence first, and- wait. They were breaking into someone else's apartment, they might not even be looking for him. Frantic and in fight or flight mode, he tried to process this even as he hurried down the stairs, nearing an open window on the second floor.