From the inside, Foggy watches as this blurry figure disappears from view. He tries to follow along to the edge of the window, swiping his hand across the glass, and then attempts to wade through the high water towards where he expects the back door would open up.

His teeth chatter, his body shivers from the cold and anxiety, and every bit of him that's been ravaged by lead aches. It makes his head swim — ha! — and forces him to hug himself. Christ, what a stupid idea this was, he tells himself. He's never been the hero type, but here he was, watching the water raising around him, nipple deep in cold, black water and panic.

"Please, please," he begs quietly, occasionally swiping water from his face as he bounces on his toes and eagerly awaits his savior. "Jesus, how long does it take?" A sob slips out and Foggy turns back to look towards the window, squinting through the glass for movement. "C'mon, I don't wanna die..."