Misty sat at her desk, eyes unfocused as she pushed at her brain to give her something to work with. The lab report on Harris hadn't offered up any surprises; the virus had been present in the body, and they were no closer to a cure. Another attack had happened while Misty had been asleep, but for once she was glad not to have taken the call. Taking down a 4-year-old, murderous or not, was too much for even her.<br/><br/>The desk phone rang, and she snapped out of her morose thoughts and picked up the receiver.<br/><br/>"Crenshaw," she answered, sitting up straighter at the the sound of Rowan's voice. "Hey! Did you think of som- what?" She asked. "Wait, which hospital? Okay, I'm on my way," she said, hanging up before he could argue with her. Halfway to the hospital, she realized how rude and invasive she must be coming off, and detoured through a Starbuck's drive-thru so she would as least come bearing gifts. Once she'd arrived at the hospital, she parked in the official lot, grabbed the bag and coffee holder, and carried them through the sliding glass doors at the front. A stop at reception and a flash of her badge got her the room number she'd forgotten to ask for.<br/><br/>Rowan's room was a standard one, which meant his injury wasn't critical or intensive. Misty tapped on the door with her knuckle and stepped inside when she heard him say to come in. The sight of him with a bandaged head had her slowing her stride.<br/><br/>"What the hell happened to you?" She said, setting the coffee and pastries aside on his tray as she stepped closer. "Was there another attack?" She asked, concern pulling her lips down into a concerned frown.