"In a mirror is where we find a reflection of our appearances, but in a heart is where we find a reflection of our soul."

― Unknown

"No no, I'm certain we're going the right way, sir," Kowalski says, tapping his phone screen. "It says we go left up ahead."

"I'm telling you, we've been around this bend once tonight already. You got us going in circles."

"No! We are not lost."

"Oh yeah? Then where the hamsteak are we?"

"... JUST BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW THAT ANSWER DOESN'T MEAN THAT WE'RE LOST."

"THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT MEANS, KOWALSKI."

What a lovely conversation to wake up to.

Squinting up, her face feels wet from the cold breeze, Bridget's eyes open up, blinking slightly.

'Where the hell am I now?'

She grunts a bit from the yelling between the two, wishing they would stop.

Seeing her eyes open, Private reaches forward and taps Kowalski's back. "Hey um, I think she's waking up."

Both Skipper and Kowalski stop. "Huh?"

Feeling called out, she freezes for a moment, not knowing what to say or exactly what to do. "...Uh, hi,"

"Well, since you're awake, any of this look familiar to you?" Skipper grumbles.

Bridget lifts her head up to look around, before making a slightly nervous expression. Despite the fact that this street MAY be the one she would pass by from a few days ago, her memory is a bit fuzzy to it.

"...Uhhhhhhhh-"

There is silence for a moment before Skipper sighs. "Great. We're lost."

"Hey, you try ta remember directions in a god damn big city after movin in three days ago and see how well ya remember shit," Bridget grumbles as she huffs, looking at Kowalski. "What street name is this?"

"Uhhh...Leslie Drive?"

Biting her lip, Bridget thinks. She points forward, which to the boys, is backward. "Turn around, go straight, and make a right turn on the corner,"

"See? Told you you were going the wrong way." Skipper snorts, turning around.

"Well! We can't all be perfect." Kowalski snaps back.

'Jesus fuckin christ, do these two always fuckin argue? My god can they knock it off'

With the group of pengmen (and Bridget) heading where the given directions are, the scenery becomes a little more familiar to the boys, like they've been here before.

"Hey, now I know where we're at." Skipper says. "Remember that time that dame took Private as a chew toy for her demon dog? Ain't this her street?"

"Actually come to think of it, yeah!"

The ginger blinks in confusion. "...Wait what?"

"Oh yeah, a few Christmases ago this old lady tried buying Private as a chew toy for her poodle." Skipper nods.

"Ah" She thinks for a moment.

"...Does she always carry a handbag and speak in a Russian accent?"

"Yep, that's the one."

"Ah, yeah, she lives across from me."

"... Great."

It isn't long before they reach the apartment complex. Minus the snow, it still looks the same. Skipper sets her down.

'Ah yes, not bein carried anymore. Good good,'

Bridget immediately takes large steps away from them, keeping a slight distance between her and the pengmen.

"You're going to tell the doorman we're with you, right?"

Bridget looks at the still flat-headed man with a look. "Noooo, I only came back for ya so I could get a ride," Sarcasm drenches her sentence.

Rolling her eyes, she walks to the doorman, who gives her a wave. Bridget doesn't wave back and instead points back to the men. "They're with me," she says as she continues to walk in.

The doorman nods, before looking at them and giving the pengmen strange stares.

The pengmen awkwardly follow her. Private attempts a small wave back to the man.

The doorman just slightly stares.

Luckily there aren't many people around for them to be stared at when entering the place. Unlucky for them, the people who are there would not take their eyes off of the men. Even with the lobby's music on, it truly felt like an awkward silence.

"Can we pick up the pace a little?" Skipper mutters to her.

It may not have been clear until now that Bridget isn't skating really, and more rolling with one leg while the other slightly dragged or limped along. But hearing Skipper's cries, she nods. "K, k, just calm down, alright," she mutters back.

"Do you...Would you like some support?" Kowalski whispers to her.

"N-" On the instant, she bites her lip before almost letting out an aggressive shout. She instead huffs and shakes her head. "I'm fine, let's just hurry,"

They get into the elevator and go up. The ride is fairly silent. Everyone is tired and sore at this point and not really up for chitchat.

Bridget takes the moment to count heads and study everyone. Biting her lip, she thinks to herself.

'K, I'm gonna need ta get the medicine, some ice packs...new clothes, but I don't know if any of mine will fit them...shit'

The elevator then opens with a ding. Bridget comes out from the elevator, leading the way as she skates to the roo- oh what's this? She stops to notice a clothing donation box by one of the room's doors.

...How convenient.

...Quickly, she bends for the box of clothes and carries it to the room.

The penguins follow her. Private and Kowalski at this point are tiredly leaning against each other.

Finally, with Bridget getting the keys from her backpack, she unlocks and opens the door to her place. She skates in and is welcomed by the scenery of a small, yet comfortable apartment.

It isn't home, but it does nicely.

"K, ya guys can go sit on the couch and do whatever, I'll getcha some ice packs," She nods at them before placing her bag and clothing box down.

The pengmen nod and waddle in. The four sit together closely on the couch as they have been requested.

She heads for the kitchen. Despite the fact she knows she should take care of leg business first, the ginger keeps her mind busy on attending to the penguins. She gets a couple of ice packs, water bottles, and snacks.

Heading over to where the men sit, she places the items on the table.

"Thank you." Kowalski nods. "Do you need any help?"

Bridget is quick to shake her head. "I'm good...but thanks,"

She then heads back over to grab the box.

"... Are you positive?" Too late, he's getting up. "I mean, you were literally tazed not too long ago. I really don't mind."

Not sure how to respond or react to the pengman's question, Bridget for a moment froze in confusion.

'Why he is...bein nice? All I've been so far towards them is a grump and he's tryin ta be friendly?'

"...I'm...good?...Worry about yourself first, k?"

"... Well at least allow me to help a little." He smiled slightly. "Or Private or someone. There's no reason you should be doing everything yourself."

"...What exactly do ya wanna help me with? Cause I don't look like the one that's ready ta pass out,"

"That's because you've already passed out once." He states bluntly. "But anything that I could assist with."

Despite how new and foreign this concept was, Bridget looks at him, then the box, then back at him.

"...Could ya uh...take this box over to them?" her tone was uncertain.

Kowalski nods and gets the box. "Mmhmm." He sets it over by the couch.

'...Oh, that was...nice?'

Bridget stares at him confused, before shaking her head. Not now.

She then heads over to her bedroom for the medkit and extra blankets.

Kowalski returns to the others, opting to sit on the floor this time with a yawn.

"Ya can turn on the TV if ya wanna," their zookeeper's voice rang from her headroom.

Skipper in seconds has the remote and turns it on, flipping through to the news.

As he does this, Private and Rico take some of the suggested snacks on the table.

Commercials finish and Chuck Charles comes onto the screen.

"Good evening. I'm Chuck Charles and this is one streaky special report. Four young men were reportedly mugged for their clothing by four other nude men. Police are still on the lookout for these supposed streakers, but they have fortunately prepared for us sketches of the accused assailants." Four crude profile sketches are flashed onto the screen.

"Be on the lookout for these men. Approach only with caution as they are dangerous."

As if the pengmen aren't self-conscious enough, the rudimentary doodles of themselves are...not helpful on giving insight on how they look now.

The four look at the images with uncomfortable frowns.

"... Do we... Do we really look that bad?" Kowalski glances at the others.

"It'd make sense why they were all staring..." Private rubs the back of his neck.

Rico just shrugs.

It's around this time that Bridget comes back with items she had gone to retrieve, placing them on an unused couch.

Skipper looks over at her with a whistle. "Hey, do we really look like... that?" He motions at the screen.

Bridget glares at Skipper for a moment for whistling at her, before glancing at the tv screen. Her eyes widen, as she is not expected to see the Muppets on tv so late at night...wait. She squints...is that supposed to be the penguins?

'Oh jeez whoever drew that is fuckin terrible'

She glances over at the boys, thinking for a moment. "...Follow me," she turns away in the direction of her bedroom.

The four exchange uncertain looks before getting up and following her.

She walks into the room and waits for them. Once all inside, she points at something behind them. "Ya go judge for yourselves,"

What is behind them...a big closet, sliding-door mirror.

The four waddle over to take an anxious look.

There is then a moment of silence that is interrupted by a scoff.

"I don't think we actually look that terrible." Skipper says.

Rico nods and finger guns at his reflection. "Yeah."

"Oh... I suppose they used that same sketch artist as last time. They really cannot draw, can they?" Private says.

Bridget looks over to them, huffing softly. She did notice how Kowalski isn't saying much but doesn't try to bring attention to it.

She herself can't help but stare at them now, but less of admiration and more from enjoying their reactions.

The guys, now more or less relieved that they don't look like the TV sketches, look over at Bridget. "So...we're not that ugly." Skipper mostly states.

"...Uhhhh-" Biting her lips, Bridget looks away nervously.

She doesn't know exactly how to phrase the words she's looking for, but knows her saying something wrong will make them feel bad...not that SHE CARES what they feel, but she damn knows for sure her empathy will bite her back.

"...No...Ya don't look like Muppets,"

This seems to satisfy the unstated question, and Skipper nods. He motions for the others to follow him as he leaves the room.

Quickly sighing in relief, Bridget follows them out for a brief moment, grabbing a toolbox that happened to be on the kitchen table.

She heads towards her room and calls out. "K, there's food and drinks, TV, medical supplies, blankets, and not wet clothes. If ya need showers or anythin, let me know, if not, I'll be in my room," She closes the door and disappears.

The guys mostly look at the snacks and changes of clothes, though Kowalski waddles back that way and knocks on her door.

"Yeah?" a muffled brogue voice answers.

"... Not to be intruding... But I couldn't help but notice the toolbox...?"

There is a pause. "...Oh uh, yeah, I-I do have...a toolbox with me,"

"... And I'm going to guess you made that slingshot earlier yourself?"

"...That's a good guess...whatcha point?"

"So... You're an inventor too?"

The tall pengman is only greeted with silence.

Kowalski frowns slightly at that. "... Okay, I'm guessing you don't want to discuss that, um...I guess I would be interested in a shower perhaps?"

A moment of silence passes before he gets an answer.

"Yeah, give me a moment."

There are muffled sounds of a mechanic clacking behind the door.

He raises a brow as he listens and bites his lip.

Slight shuffling happens as the door opens to reveal a Bridget.

A sheepish, sore smile meets her there. "Thanks... But also... If you'd like a little help with repairing something, I promise my inventing skills are better than what you witnessed last night... At least towards repairing robotics."

The ginger stares at him dead into the eyes, almost as a warning.

Back off...or else.

Kowalski lowers his gaze with a nod and holds up his hands to show he meant no harm. "Just thought I'd offer... The uh... Shower then?" He bites his lip again.

...She shoves a towel in his arms and steps aside to let him in. "Bathroom's right there," Bridget points, her tone undefinable.

"Thanks..." His voice is scarcely more than a whisper before he scurries past her to the bathroom and closes the door.

...With a sigh, Bridget closes the other door. It is going to be a long night.