Alexander had caught Brooke on an odd moment of relaxation. Neither was she attempting to chase down a mutant turtle nor was she trying to antagonize someone. At that moment, in fact, Brooke was in her room at the institute, settled on the easy chair that the Institute had provided as part of the furnishing of the place, idly flipping through a book of poetry. She glanced at her phone when the text came in and for a moment, her heart stopped for a moment.

We need to talk? That...could be bad.

For a brief moment, Brooke wanted to ignore the text. If it was bad news, she didn't want to hear it.

But Alexander knew her, and he'd be well aware that she had received and read the text.

I'm available.