Chicago operates differently, but it's still a place some people call home. It's still a city that doesn't deserve any of what happened here. It's still a city full of people that didn't ask for any of this.

They didn't, whatever one nutjob said.

Deb nearly cracks a smile there, though not a happy one. "What a hell of a vacation that would be."

Not that living here is any better, most of the time.

"Lucky us," Deb says, and it isn't sarcasm, but it's said quietly. There was a time, a few years ago, when Deb had already thought she'd seen enough. That she'd been through enough. It's hard for her to believe that she shut down then, when she hasn't now. She just keeps going, because everyone else is, somehow.

"Christ." Deb brings her hand up to her hair pushes it away from her face, and then takes a step forward toward the wreckage. There's yellow tape everywhere, and it makes her think for a second of her badge back home. Of what they'd all do, confronted with something like this. "The Rift needs to start offering up some goddamn refunds," she says.

Then she pauses, and takes another breath before looking back at Sonny. "Okay. Where do we start?"