Raph just frowns into the fire, the flames playing with the shadows on his face. For a long moment, he doesn't answer. Far away, he can still hear people screaming in the night. Punks and nutjobs making trouble. And even though he was pretty content just a second ago, knowing people are still out there looting and rioting makes his blood boil until he can barely stand being in his own skin. He wants to get out there and bust some heads. Now.

There's a flash of teeth as he digs the stick into the hot coals a little more violently than necessary. It loosens a smoldering log, collapsing the flaming pile in a burst of firefly pieces of ash.

Getting mad, thinking about going back out there and putting the beat-down on more dumb thugs is easier than thinking about the real issue here. Because that... that's the proverbial can of worms. A livewire bundle of emotions he still hasn't been able to make sense of after so many months. It's just been long cycles of avoidance until he gets their presence forced down his throat again. Over and over.

All he knows is it just doesn't feel right. Every time he thinks of them being out there, there's a tight, hot feeling in his stomach that just makes him want to hurt something. He just doesn't want anything to do with them if he can avoid it. So he decides not to answer with anything more than brooding silence.