Truce remembers the apartment.
A stop for food and drinks --because Angels are totally good hosts-- for them and the girls, then a pause at the door followed by the hurried kicking of something(s) into another room and they were finally inside. The desk made from door set on cinder blocks makes a great place to dump the notes and stuff, and the vittles go on the table.
"I'll text Avis." She probably remembers the apartment, too. Maybe not the article of clothing he'd just hidden from Truce though. "Turn on the TV, put it on ESPN."
White noise. He wandered over to a stack of sideways milk-crates doing duty as a bookcase and fished out a map and odd orange vinyl book. Ever seen a Key Map? Boom.
"So what'd you think?"