[Sasha Andrews] (Sorry, I forgot the freakin’ brackets.)
[Evan McCollach] (Evan would use Rage to get up to Crinos form. Use 1 more rage for extra action, two claw wipes.)
Evan fueled his very veins and muscles further, his body expanding and pushing, ripping open the sweater as he pushes his form up and ready himself. Looking to use Eagle’s own strength to end this quickly.
[Ruhiger] Subconsciously, he can adjust to the slam. She is pressed back, thrown forward, pressed back again. Feet plant on the floorboard, and she braces her arm against the rest on the door. There is no complaint, however, not one.
He makes his comment, and she glances over at him in the flicker of the lamps overhead. In reply? Just the slightest arch of a brow. If she has any misgivings about the Adren having THAT kind of power under the engine… there’s nothing said. It’s eyes forward again, Pale gaze watching the road be eaten by the heavy duty engine.
[Riot] …The Hound moves, a freight train of Rage and destruction that tears up whole sections of the parkland, shoulders hunched forward and the ratcheting snarl of it’s jaws, slathering drool to all sides, the fluids black veined and steaming as they strike the grass…
…And as Evan steps forward, his senses humming as flesh turns to fur and teeth to fangs, the creature’s claws dig with an effortless fluidity and suddeness.
…It jinks. Shoulders, like a rushing linebacker, seeking an opening. Darts an inch to the left (Feint!) before it’s body, huge and powerful, plunges right a clear route ’round the Steadfast Philodox.
((Dodge ’round Evan. Clark, make your first attack Roll.))
[Evan McCollach] (Claw rake)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 6 (Failure at target 6)
[Riot] ((And your Rage Attack. Diff will be a 7 for this one.))
[Evan McCollach] (Oh please Kahseeno, please oh great and power God of Dice, aid me, please)
[Evan McCollach]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Riot] Beast soak:
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Evan McCollach] Evan’s got 3 extra strength for Eagle’s might.
[Riot] ((Include them in the roll.))
[Evan McCollach] (11 dice for damage)
[Evan McCollach] (Sorry I mean 12 for damage)
Come on Kahseeno
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)
[Riot] ((*blink* Son of a Motherless Goat))
[Riot] ((Uhhhh, heh, alright gimme a minute folks.))
[Ruhiger] (Bloody hell – that’s brilliant. *L*)
[Evan McCollach] (damn, thank you kahseeno)
[Henry Allard] (WOOHOO!)
[Brodie Taylor] (wow. Just.. one badass coggie!!)
[Silence] (he’s an eagle, bitches *LOL*)
[Riot] Evan’s growl rolls baritone and thunder through the air. There is no Child of Gaia here. Not in this clear moment of time, Kemp and Brodie’s snarls of urgency left a faint echo as the Philodox plants his feet, digs toe claws deep into the softness of the earth and meets the rush of the Monstrosity…
…He lunges forward, a single step, claws raking out and across where the Snout would be, even as the Beast chuffs almost negligently and shoulders hard into the Philodox’s flank, scales grinding fur away and rubbing the flesh beneath raw. In that same mmoent, a sharp waft of Rage pours from the maw of the Eagle raised Judgement~in~Sterling~Silver, his actions an instinctive throwback to Silver Fang Heritage and Ancestry:
Blood of Kings pulls his other arm ’round, wrapping the arm ’round the passing back and flank of the beast, where talons find purchase within the soft underbelly and pull upwards in one savage, lifting strike…
…Disembowling the beast, which strikes the ground in near two pieces, visceral remains of writhing purple and pulped red, splattering a puddle of gore that splashes up against the feet and shins of Sasha as the creature comes to a sliding halt across the grass, tongue lolling and body slumping to a steaming pause, a half dozen yards beyond Evan who sports but a few droplets of enemy blood across his shoulders and chest.
[Riot] ((…S’Galliard when you need one.))
[Riot] ((Back in normal time folks. Proceed as you like…))
[Brodie Taylor] (right, kemp, how bout we go crochet some potholders or something really useful? Evan’s right fine…. heh)
to Evan McCollach, Henry Allard, Kemp Oates, Riot, Ruhiger, Sasha Andrews, Silence
[Kemp Oates] It was over before it began and he skidded to a halt, claws digging furrows into the earth. Cuffing out an exhale as he turned away from the full out charge. He could hear the sound of the engine growing closer. One dark ear flickered towards the sound even as he turned away into the darker parts of the park. Slowly shifting back to shrug the remains of his T off.
[Sasha Andrews] “Huh.”
Raised eyebrows.
A scratch at the side of her neck.
A faint snuffle of breathing, rubbing the back of her head under her nose.
Boot treads scuffed on the grass nearby that was actually not blood and gore covered.
She went and nudged the rent carcass with a boot toe.
“Nice.” Addressed to Evan.
Then she went to find Henry, her satchel (which he’d dropped).
To the male Kin: “How ’bout we, ya know…” She cocked her head towards a direction away from the park.
[Henry Allard] Henry had not made it very far when Evan’s claws unzipped the vile thing’s abdominal cavity, quickly ending its life and bringing it to a splattering halt at Sash’s boots. He comes back from the tree he’d hidden behind, coughing into his closed fist and meeting the Gnawer girl at the dropped satchel. She cocks her head, begs a question, and Henry completes the sentence for her.
“… get the fuck out of here?”
[Brodie Taylor] Skids!! His claws reach for purchase and rip great furrows in the ground, raising the scent of freshly plowed earth, all ready for planting. Evan’s provided the fertilizer, nice and bloody. A wave of dirt crashes over anyone or thing in his path. When he stops moving, a really tall man lies there, with jeans, boots, a tshirt still intact for once, and a massive turquoise belt buckle. Someplace, he had glasses, and roots about looking for them for a few moments before standing and eyeing the lovely mess.
“That rocked.” Accolades for Evan. He nods once, and tosses hair–and dirt– out of his eyes.
[Evan McCollach] Evan growls slightly at the creature that was felled by one quick claw swipe. It was flayed open and laid out down by his feet. He didn’t think that such a creature would be killed so easily. But it was done.
And as he looked at the girl that was standing by his side for a second, he just seemed a little puzzled for a second, before it dawned on him. He watched her leave as he started off towards Henry. And that was it, he shifted back down, back to his natural form, sans the sweater. And that brought out another growl and if it wasn’t Evan, some curse words.
“No… why? Randi just bought me that sweater. I swear I can’t own anything nice. Just once…”
He turned and kicked the thing again, getting some purple blood on his shoe. Oh wait.
Sorry Decker, its kinda… well dead. I killed it already. Thing looked worse than it was.
[Sasha Andrews] “Yeah. Something like that.”
She hoisted the satchel up and over a shoulder.
Then started walking.
(whether Henry came or not)
After all, you don’t want to step on someone else’s toes.
His kill, his clean up.
[Henry Allard] (Exeunt Henry and Sasha.)
[Sasha Andrews] (Yeah — What Jamie said.)
[Silence] Decker’s halfway through a yellow light, running at a red with no signs of stopping, when Evan’s message comes through.
He slams on the brakes. The Barracuda fishtails. Smoke comes up from the wheelwells. It rocks to a stop at the red, idling choppily, and the driver of the lone Civic bumbling through the intersection gives him a wide-eyed stare.
“Toldja I needed nitrous,” he says to AM, obviously amused. Then, on totemphone — stern and shit: Learn yer own strength. Poor Evan. That’s the Fenrir way: criticism (semi-constructive at best) first; praise later. If at all.
[Brodie Taylor] He starts to say something, then curses at himself. “FUCK! HOW fuckin stupid– Aw, pardon my French, Ma’am.” A lift of the hat to the woman before he shoves it down on his unkempt head and then he’s bolting high speed again back towards the rent the hound made in the thickness between the worlds.
[Evan McCollach] He turned and looked at Brodie as they stopped from heading in on the kill. Well it wasn’t dead that long ago. But at the very least it could have been worse. But why did that thing just come out of the spiritual world? And why did he have that feeling. Something was wrong with the Weaver or something.
And as Brodie praised his action, he is snapped out of it. Looking at him for a second, before he recognized the fianna who he hasn’t seen for far too long.
“Ummm.. thank you.”
he started patting down his pockets for a second,
[Evan McCollach] He looked for his mirror and headed off towards the darkened shadows, looking to get to the other side again and see what exactly was going on now, dragging the carcass of the creature with him, so he can dispose of it on the other side.
[Riot] ((Whoops. heh))
[James Wagner] ( Got room for another? )
[Ruhiger] Decker slams on the breaks, and makes his comment, and she just shakes her head. The perceptive, of course, will note the corner of her lips flickering upwards in the briefest expression of amusement.
Otherwise, she has no comment. She doesn’t even express surprise that Evan killed it already. At least, not outwardly.
[Riot] The scene upon Matheson street is a bloody display: enough red ichor spreads across the street’s centre to warrant a severed limb or busted artery, the shade of the red matching that possible admission. Yet whatever the creature had been, unknown to the Garou that remain, it’s crossing had been repaired, the flesh between worlds re-sealed by the Weaver’s diligent workers.
[Silence] Eventually — a minute or two later — Decker parks the ‘Cuda on the curb of the park. There’s a curious musk on the air, as well as an ozone smell like lightning. It’s the scent of a Garou and his rage.
Decker steps out of the car. It’s quiet, though bloody. He slams the door behind him and takes a sharp sniff, reaching out with his sixth sense to get a feel for the (once-)battlefield. [1 gnosis — Battle Sense] By then, Evan is presumably already in the Umbra.
[Brodie Taylor] Well now.
He grins. Residential street. Twister bonded.
Time for some judicious vandalism. Brodie skids to antoher stop by a fire hydrant and gets to vandalizing, intending to wash the hell out of the street. Just got to open it up, one way or the other.
[James Wagner] “Learn tae bloody well fookin’ drive, ye daft American!” James yelled out the window of his F-250 in an amused fashion. The Barracuda in front of him had came to a screeching, grinding halt and the Galliard’s head was stuck out the window with his fist in the air. One would note that a bit more smoke curled up from the large tires of the sky-lifted truck. Bloody fookin’ American drivers. The ‘Cuda looked vaguely familiar to him, and if he was right. One would also note that the front bumper of the truck cleared the trunk of the ‘Cuda, and was merely an inch from the muscle car.
Loud, thundering death-metal blared out from the sound system inside the vehicle. Inside James’ chest, however, his heart was thundering.
[Riot] ((…And I’ve answered every possible contingency available here for the time being folks. Got work tomorrow. Anything else that might come up can be related via Forums or some such. Beyond that? Good Evenin’!))
[Silence] (thanks man — night!0
[Brodie Taylor] (K thanks! bye!)
[Ruhiger] She steps out a second behind Silence, and studies the area. She moves around the car, to join Decker and waiting to see if there is anything left.
She glances toward James as he joins them, her face expressionless, before she turns toward the carnage left by Eagle claw.
[Kemp Oates] (( Night folks))
[Evan McCollach] (Night kemp)
[Evan McCollach] (I mean Blu)
[Evan McCollach] After what seemed a few more moments, there was that touch in the air again. That feeling of something moving through the spiritual world into the physical realm, but unlike the thick sudden rip that came from the black oozing spirit, it was s slip and Evan once again returning from the shadow where he stopped.
There was no longer a glimmer or glow from Evan any longer, his gift disappating from his form. His sweater was gone now, tattered and torn away, left behind. His lanky skinny torso exposed to the night air. And he looked back as Decker, AnneMarie and James all seemed to come on the scene. Brodie and Kemp gone.
[Silence] Decker had taken one sharp sniff out of the air and then strode into the park. He followed the path of the wyrm-beast from the gauntlet breach all the way to the messy splatter where its miserable life had ended. Pace by pace, step by step, with the intensity and focus of an old-world tracker.
There’s a deviation in the path. It had attempted to circle around Evan — and two others as well. Eyes narrowed on the tracks in the murk, the Modi sinks to a loose crouch, and even the Irishman bellowing behind him doesn’t get him to turn around. Not for a second, anyway.
Then he gets to his feet and turns to face James. He doesn’t look impressed.
“Turn that shit off ‘n shut up.” Death-metal, one assumes. “Don’t need no more ‘ttention.”
[Silence] (addendum)
Evan reappears — Decker nods him over with a jerk of his head. “C’mere.” He points at the tracks. “That thing try ta go aroundja before ya splatted it?”
[James Wagner] “Aye,” he said with a slight grin. Bloody pisser, that one. Pulling in behind the ‘Cuda, the massive truck idled a second before highlights and engine were killed all together and James hopped down out of the cab and shut the door with a soft slam. Once out of the vehicle, the scent of what had occured her struck the Galliard and put a sobering effect into the Irishman.
Stepping up to Decker, AnneMarie, and Evan James quirked a brow and looked around. His lips twisted in disgust. A bane, but one that obviously hadn’t done much damage as Evan was still in one solid piece. Running a hand through his hair, he kept silent as Decker asked his questions.
[Ruhiger] She follows the path into the park, behind Decker and to the left, studying the area. Where he tracks the ground, and figures what happened there, and begins to question, her gaze is up and outwards, watching their back for anything else that might come within range.
[Brodie Taylor] Yeah, the strength-augmented Fianna Ahroun wins the battle vs the fire hydrant. Water gushes out to wash away the blood stains, washes hell out of the tall, muscled man in teh process. Too damned bad no sexy cute kin ladies were there to see.
Sigh.
That done, he lopes back to the park, growling the way, irritated and stuffed with rage and STILL with nothing to kill. Least he can see what the hell happened with the others. Over the totem phone, he mutters an update to the pack as he travels, shoving his hat back on his head or straightening his glasses occasionally.
[Evan McCollach] “Whatever it was, tried to get passed me it seemed. Like it was either running or headed for something. You should see the other side. Seems it took out some pattern spiders before ripping open the gauntlet.”
He looked between Decker and AnneMarie, then back to James. He was not sure how to actually say how he felt what happened.
“I was here with Henry and some girl, a gwaner named Sash or something. Then I felt it. Like icy touch over my body. Something like… the weaver was just dissected or something. And then that thing came out.”
And then Brodie is back,w ashing things up it seemed.
[Evan McCollach] (Dammit I will brb)
[Silence] Decker listens to the Philodox’s account, frowning a bit when Evan speaks of the weaver. Then he raises his head and looks at the tracks again, forward and back.
The Modi backtracks to the point where the misshapen, grotesque tracks begin. He turns around. It’s a straight line from here all the way until the intercept point, where it had swerved — too late — and met its death on Evan’s claws. But Decker looks past that point, walks the trail past the splatter of blood and guts, onward to … a playground. With a rocking horse, and some tracks, human tracks, in the sand.
“Who was sittin’ here? Henry ‘n Sash?”
— and then the tall Fianna, whom Decker had not met before, lopes up. Decker casts him a glance.
[Ruhiger] (Don’t wait for me -I’ll interject when she has something to add)
[Brodie Taylor] He dosnt have to skid to a stop this time, looks about, nods to the others respectfully. “Howdy. Anythin left here? Entrance point where it crossed is clear. Wet, too.”
Brodie’s dripping water, which is a damned sight better than slobbering for a fight.
[James Wagner] An eye on Evan when he speaks about just somehow knowing, he merely shrugs. That would be something for him to ask Maya. Unless the Philodox knew how to sense the Weaver (who couldn’t, in this bloody place?) and the Wyrm together, James had no clue how he felt what he did.
Brodie came lumbering up, and he eyed his tribemate with a skeptical look. “Nae lookin’ like it,” he said. And, offhand to Decker, ” ‘E’s one o’ m’ people.”
As the Modi surveys the brief battle-ground, James is taking a look around himself. There was much he could learn from an Adren Modi. Likely there was much to learn from them all.
[Silence] “Yeah,” second glance and he recognizes Brodie, “saw ‘im sittin’ with tha Rotagar, once.” And, again, addressing Brodie this time: “Who was sittin’ there? Henry ‘n Sash?” He points at the playground, where the wyrmbeast had tried so desperately to go.
[Brodie Taylor] “Didn’t know the girl. Saw Henry, that Coggie kid, nice guy, thing tried ta go round Evan Fuckin Almighty ta get ta them. Last thing the fucker ever did.”
Forest green eyes, Stag’s son, regard the gathered group, including the new fostern, the adren Decker and his own head of tribe here in Chicago. “Fuck, that was a damned- uhh… sorry ma’am.” One hand swipes off his Stetson and he continues enthusiastically. “One Fuck– uhh one swipe! Fu– uhh Ripped the BASTARD apart, ended it. One swipe. Damned fine killin, man. Ain’t seen nothin like that in a time.
Oh uhh, I’m Brodie Taylor, called Rambler, on account of– uhh well that’s a long story, lot longer than ya got time fer now and well, oh yeah, cliath of Stag, full moon. Of the Touchdown pack.”
The man throbs with rage, and it ain’t nothing compared to Decker and the Ruhiger. Humans– ain’t welcome here.
[Silence] Brodie Taylor. Called Rambler. On account of —
” — yer nonstop yawpin’?” Christ, Fianna. Decker gets back down to business: “So this Wyrmlin’ claws his way through Weaver spiders, tears a hole in tha Gauntlet, tries ta run around coupla Garou — ta make a beeline fer tha kin.” Pause. “Sure sounds like he wanted Henry bad fer somethin’.
“James.” The Fostern wanted a piece of the pie — he was going to get a piece of the pie. “Why don’tchoo ‘n Evan take a walk in tha Umbra. See if you kin follow tha Wyrmlin’s tracks on the otherside. Trace back ‘n see where he been, right ‘fore he came here ‘n died.”
Then the Modi takes out his cell phone — so scratched and battered now it was hardly recognizable from the top of the line device Roxy got ’em all those years ago. He navigates through the confusing menu-structure, quick now after years of practice.
Tristan’s phone rings.
[Ruhiger] (Tristan)
His phone rings, and seeing what number comes up, he steps away from the kicking Richard’s ass in some game or another, thumbing the phone on as he moves outside. “Hey, Decker. S’up?”
[James Wagner] “Suren,” he said to Decker and looked to Evan with a bit of a nod. So a Philodox and a Galliard walk into the Umbra. Reaching into his pocket, James pulled out a shiney stainless-steel pen and stared into it.
A few moments later, and he stood there in the umbra. Squatting down, he stared at the tracks quite openly. He wasn’t much of a tracker, but this a child could follow.
[Silence] “Henry home yet?” Right down to business, as usual.
[Evan McCollach] (back, sorry)
[Ruhiger] (T) Brow arches quickly. Decker asking about Henry… this can’t be good. “Not yet, no. Why?”
[Brodie Taylor] At Decker’s interruption, he doenst’ even flinch. So many have interrupted him over the years, he just takes it in stride. Kinda like the order from Rafi to come.
Yep, Come.
His head jerks up and he listens with taht vague, on-the-totemphone look. And then he excuses himself, bolts once for for streets away and his truck.
[Brodie Taylor] (gg to bbbbbed!! gnight! thanks for scene!)
to Evan McCollach, James Wagner, Ruhiger, Silence
[Silence] “When he gits home,” Tristan’s why had smacked of what happened to him. Decker chooses to interpret it as what did you need, “axe ‘im where he’s been tha last coupla days. Detailed as poss’ble.” Pause. “There anythin’ … special ’bout Henry? Diff’rent from other kin?”
[Ruhiger] (T) He’s know Silence a long time. And he knows what that means – but at least he didn’t say IF he comes home. But When. His heart is pounding, but he doesn’t let it show in his voice. Performer to the end, Tristan. “Alright, I will.” He also understands that this is a command to report back asap. At the last question, he blinks again. “No, nothing different. He’s got purity I don’t, but that’s it.”
[Evan McCollach] Evan didn’t seem to happy about knowing why the Weaver seemed to splayed open. It was something that he wish he never had the affinity for, as it was no gift that he wanted. If it was a gift at all. And as Decker demanded he and James went into the Umbral to search out the creatures tracks.
However when they crossed over, there was somethign strange about this area where the creature broke out of. It was fillled with crimson Umbral myst, it actually made it very hard to follow such a creatures path. And there was several pattern spiders, seemingly dissected in the area. It was definately a battle on the other side of the Umbral.
[Silence] (well speak of the devil *LOL*)
[Henry Allard] ( :D )
[James Wagner] “Lookin’ like someone, ‘r somethin’, ‘ad a field day ‘ere, boyo,” he said with a grim sort of humor to Evan. James motioned with his hand; since Evan had some sort of sixth sense he would let the Child of Gaia lead. The Irish did however allow his axe to come into being, melting out from a tattoo to a very real war-axe. The massive thing was propped on a shoulder as the Homid James’ eyes scanned around warily. The Pattern Spiders he initially gave the most attention to.
Then the mist, and then to the ground where he expected to find the tracks. Smoothing his goattee on his chin, James shook his head. Seemed to of missed all the fun, but something had come after these pattern spiders, and those things typically weren’t any sort of fun for any Garou. Very likely whatever or whoever did this had some sort of power.
[Silence] (ken/clark: y’all prolly wanna check with Harv to see if they find anything interesting there (unless he’s already told clark *squints*).
jamie/lessa: can you check w/ harv too and see if there’s any sort of correspondence between the wyrm’s tracks and where henry’s been?)
to Evan McCollach, Henry Allard, James Wagner, Ruhiger
[Silence] Purity, Tristan says. The word clicks somewhere in the Modi’s head.
“Thanks, Tris’.” Then he hangs up. To Annemarie: “Git tha word out to all tha purebred kin ya see, ours ‘r not. Tell ’em ta watch they backs.” He’s already heading for the Barracuda.
[Henry Allard] (Roger.)
to Evan McCollach, James Wagner, Ruhiger, Silence
[Ruhiger] (T) “Anytime. Talk to you soon.” And he hangs up, and after calling into the living room to Richard. “Gonna go pick up Henry. Taking the Nissan. Want anything?” and getting the order for more beer, he grabs up the keys and heads out in search of his boyfriend.
(AM)
She nods – barely more then a lift of her chin, before she starts off to do exactly that. She’ll hit the pack areas that she knows first, and move on from there.
[Evan McCollach] He hated this part of the Umbral, the crimson mist was thick. It seemed that were the creature broke out of the umbral was where the spiders seemed to be killed. Either they were trying to calcify the wyrm thing into their web and just were overpowered or the creature was escaping the spiritual world and they were victims without understand why they had to die.
But why did I feel that sensation, why would I feel that icy chill of the Weaver, its pain? Could I still be… impossible. It was cleansed. I should be fine now. But something else was wrong.
“I think we should get out of here. The pattern has been ripped here, from where that spirit pushed in. It has slightly been healed, but the Weaver is going to send some others to fix it further. I rather not become part of the web tonight.”
[James Wagner] The range of emotions that flickered unbeknowingly across Evan’s face as he watched the younger man before and while he spoke brought a bit of concern to the Sandman. “I’m thinkin’ ye may want tae ‘ave a talk wit’ Maya ’bout yer ‘sight,’ m’friend.”
Then he mentions about being calcified, and James agreed. “Wouldnae be s’much fun, I’m fer thinkin’. Whate’er killed them Spiders, I dinnae think I want tae ‘ave findin’ me if’n it comes back th’ way, s’well.” James stepped sideways again, materializing in the waking world again with that axe propped against his shoulders. He rededicated it, and made his way back to Decker.
[Silence] Decker’s already at the Barracuda, but he pauses to see James approaching. Grimacing at the axe, he casts a quick look around, checking for unwelcome eyes. “Put that away ‘fore somebody sees ya. Hell you doin’ back already?”
[Henry Allard] After he and the Gnawer girl had taken swift leave of the carnage that was left behind in the small park off of Matheson Street, Henry had not gone very far. He had run five miles to get himself into the Green, had stopped to rest, and hadn’t gotten going again, and now dusk was upon them. It was getting colder, the wind was picking up, and the poorer district of Chicago was coming to life.
Everywhere except for the block surrounding the park, that is. Something was keeping people away–deals that normally occurred here were relocated, the benches did not look so comfortable for sleeping tonight, even driving past the place didn’t seem like such a hot idea. But Henry had to walk past it to get to the Metro line, after having spent the last hour or so in a diner with the Gnawer girl slugging back coffee and trying to figure out what in the great blue blazes what happened back there. There was only one explanation: that it was after one of them. It had attempted to go right around Evan when its guts were emptied out on the dead grass, after all, it would have kept going if it weren’t for the kid’s efforts.
At any rate: it’s dark. It’s cold. And Henry, wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt and that cast, is walking down Matheson towards the Metro stop.
He doesn’t even stop to think that anyone else would still be here.