She was just about to doze off when a presence crossing by her apartment door snapped her back into consciousness. It oozed impatience, even some apprehension… but after a moment of blinking and trying to wake back up, it felt familiar again. Anderson relaxed, listening to the quiet beep of the lock before the door slid open. Typical. She figured he wouldn't knock.

Sooner or later, she realizes, this will cause her trouble.

She's still not used to all of his mannerisms and rituals, but she likes to think that she's catching on.

That was the moment she stepped out and collided with him (he was fairly sure she did it on purpose), letting out a soft grunt when she bounced off of him. Dredd took a half moment to look her over out of habit and then paused.

"I don't understand why we can't eat at your place," Dredd grunted, fingers wrapped tightly around a bag of takeout as he trudged up the stairs after Anderson, "You aren't even allowed up here."

Dredd fought through scrambling medics and other personnel, forcing his way past a clump of Psi Judges before he arrived at the last door in the intensive care unit. He ignored the collective calls of protest from the hallway behind him. No one was going to stop him right now.

There was a simmering anger that rolled off of him in waves, leaving Anderson thoroughly perplexed. It was only partially directed at her, she sensed, although for what reason she couldn't quite figure out. [nsfw]

This time, she's not a rookie anymore.