The reek of burnt flesh is what stops her, not the shove. Tears prick her eyes at the flood of gruesome memories. The night of the fire. The hours of triage. So many bodies, crackled black and slick red. So much wailing. She's ready to run before it's asked of her.

( The bakery is on fire! Nile has transformed! ) she calls out as she makes haste alongside the unfamiliar man. It's urgent, broadly thought; he'll hear her voice in his head, too.

Then, in his ears. "This way!" as she grabs his arm and steers him down a side street. Wood structures on either side of them, inviting devastation. As long as Nile is focused on the two of them, attempting to hide would spread her flame. With the possible exception of the bathhouse. Hopefully, the water will give them shelter. It may even give them a weapon.