He looked at her, the 'creation place' was getting loud, and she was between him and it. "Twelve hours. That is all I will be able to spare on waiting for her, at most."<br/><br/>He headed over to the pile of stuff the minions had left, pulling a couple auto-syringes out, and placing them on the bedside table, before pulling a device to work on. "At that point, I will be forced to go to the hanger and work. It is not a conscious thought, but a subconscious need, like air. Denying me that will result in behavior that is not... socially acceptable. I may not be able to rip the walls out with a thought, but then again, I won't have to."<br/><br/>He gave her a terse smile, before examining the device in his lap. One syringe was a pain killer concoction of his own making, for his body's rejection of the connector, the second syringe was a sedative, strong enough to negate the 'creation place's' siren song for up to eight hours.