The escape attempt, if nothing else, has convinced Fortescue that she should be less secretive with her magic. No one else from her world appears to be here, and they wouldn't be able to press laws against her anyway. Being a magus isn't much help to anyone if she keeps it out of sight. She's feeling much better than the few days before, and has traded her pin-striped trousers for a scavenged pair of jeans. She has to use a scavenged belt, since they don't fit quite right, but the jeans are on and the coat is off as she helps the rest of the reconstruction crew.

Mostly, it's her Blood magic that she uses the most, moving objects that are too unwieldy or difficult otherwise. (Lighting things on fire, or opening up dimensions, really doesn't help them at all.) She can move things up to eight hundred pounds without breaking a sweat, tendrils snaking up from shadows at the corner of the diner to support whatever is needed. Things are slightly brighter as she uses her abilities, her magic reassigning shadows for a few moments each use, and she holds her hand outward to direct the heavy bits of rubble.

About when it's time to break, each day, she has the beginning of a headache from repeated usage. But it's worth it, to be using her magic on something constructive for once. She sits back and looks at the sky, snacking on whatever's available at the time.