At first, they hadn't stopped to think, they'd just run. They'd picked up their cached supplies and prepared identities, and put as much distance between themselves and Tokyo as they could manage. They ran for days. At Amon's insistence, they went without sleep and food. He allowed no comforts until he was sure that they were, if not safe, then at least not in immediate danger of detection.
Finally they stopped. Once he was able to look beyond the moment, it became clear that the first thing they needed to do was change. Ridding themselves of Robin's stark, almost Victorian dress and his own stylized jacket and vest had been easy enough, but the spectre of Solomon loomed large and its reach extended farther than he wanted to consider. What was needed was something deeper, more fundamental. They would need to learn how to think, act, and react differently. They could not simply pose as other people, they must each become someone new and unexpected.
He looked to the slip of a girl next to him. Her close-cropped hair only served to emphasize her delicate features, making her look even younger than her sixteen years. Her age was an asset, making her malleable, adaptable. But beneath it all, there was a core of steel and a soul that had probably never truly been young. They'd manage in these new identities, and she'd thrive.
The realization made him pause. In that instant, Amon wasn't at all certain whether he should embrace that possibility or be terrified by it.