And he's alone again, with every echoing drip of a leaky pipe and Jack's very distant footsteps.

At least there's no through-door upstairs, at least not one that's unlocked. He'll be mostly safe from splicers, as long as he doesn't make himself noticeable.

Sinclair leans back against the wall and slides to sit on the tile. When they get back to his apartment, he's going to take a very long, very hot bath, and then he's going to collapse on his mattress and go into a coma for as many hours as he possibly can.

Now there's a plan.