The streets were quiet and dim. Overhead lamps shimmered on the slightly damp sidewalk and illumated the path forward. The air chilly, a bit humid, but still with a bite. It was nearly foggy.

Four characters followed their leader like ducklings back to his agency. Patrol had run long today, and nobody was really up for a chat.

Endeavor walked ahead, remaining ever vigilant and doing checks. Looking for movement, glancing at vantage points, all of it. His glower held disapproval, annoyance even. One similar to Bakugo, just more... Schooled.

Midoriya is certainly a bit out of it, being the most relaxed of the party. He's half asleep, only moving forward because everyone else is. He stares at the ground, just trying to keep putting one foot in front of the other. He's emitting whispers, mumbling something to himself in an attempt to stay awake. Even so, he's still keeping a bit of an ear out.

Bakugo looks ticked off that they went over time, walking with a slouch and with hands firmly tucked into pockets. Everyone was supposed to be back and writing down a report by now, but they just had to get caught up in a tedious fight. He's on the verge of starting a second one with Midoriya over his incessant ramblings.

Shoto was surprisingly alert all things considered. He's more like his father's son than he's willing to admit, silently double checking the same alleyways and rooftop edges as his parent. And yet, his gaze remains half lidded as he does.

Even as the concrete below them does nothing more than carry their feet, as the street lamps only flicker, as trees only rustle in the coming and going breeze while the occasional leaf detaches and flutters to the ground, there's this shared paranoia that the current peace won't last.