Without any hesitation, Misty takes it upon herself to assume both. The question is answered over her shoulder as she hustles for just that, "Four. One Matt, one me, one Ivy if they suddenly decide they want one, one emergency." Emergency is here quite debatable, but the heart fusses when the heart fusses. It is draped with little ado over his shoulders -- unremarkable, forest green and at least substantially made up of wool. Off she goes again to root through a bag, and once she can triumphantly place a bottle of water in front of him she can seat herself. "Seemed better to be safe once winter started to hit."

Bug out bags! Everyone oughta have 'em.