Bane looks over O 'Toole.  She seems fine on the surface.  "Are you going to be all right?" He asks gently, his chin smeared red.  He seems in a 'good' mood once more.<br/><br/>He empties the last of his casings, and seeing that she seems in good condition, he struts down, escorting her back inside before taking another trip to the munitions cache.<br/><br/>Back into the living area of the safehouse, he flops down in a chair, then gets up slowly, snapping open the fridge and taking out a half a cake, before going to the counter to get a fork.  Sitting back down quietly, eveeryone else arguing outside, he felt his hands shake... an aftereffect of what he could only ever describe as something close to adrenaline poisoning.  His anger subsided as though the floor had fallen out from beneath it, and he quelled the physical and psychological unease with the only remedy he'd ever really known - sugar.