Mick wasn't entirely sure why he came back. The mystery irked him. Was it the alleyway? Was it the day? Magic, something? He's not a detective. It's not his job to figure this out. But it'd been playing on his mind is the first time. Maybe. Maybe he just wanted to see again. The masochistic part of him, to remind himself of his guilt.

Telling himself he doesn't have to go back in, he spots a familiar figure. Was that Len? Oh no, he was going that way –– didn't he know -- what if he didn't know? Mick follows, prepare to drag him out of there.

But when he turns the corner, he immediately enters the memory. And tonight, unlike the first time, he feels what Len feels. When Len screams, he screams.

When the memory fades, Mick stands there, clutching his own hand as if reassuring himself it was real. He's pale and shivering.

"What the hell."

And he spots Cold, the real Cold, and is immediately concerned.

"Len? Len are -- are you okay?