He eventually got up from his bed – no sense lying in. He ignored the constant stream of sensation that helpfully let him know how everyone in his general vicinity was feeling, trying to reduce it to little more than white noise on his periphery. It was the only thing he could do since he couldn't, you know, shut it off, reducing everyone within… what was it, thirty, fifty foot radius? It was probably larger, though not as far as he could sense with fresh blood. It reduced them to little foggy blips on his awareness, not unlike being physically aware of everyone around you in a crowded hall, even if they were entirely silent. Handy very much would have liked to remain in bed, having stayed up until the wee hours of the morning when he was absolutely sure everyone in his city block was more or less asleep, even if he had ended up doing absolutely nothing during that time.