Early into the evening, as the sun has been drifting downward in the sky now for longer than he'd been paying attention to sits the man in his leather jacket, unzipped to reveal all the work he'd had done years and years back. Shame to hide it, so much money and thought being spent into it. Arm relaxed over the back of his chair, drink on the table-- water, as he can't stomach anything else. Water, and some book. Trying to blend. Trying to look like he fits in with the crowd here, just getting a bite to eat.
Except there's no food, only a couple empty glasses, and his own half full glass of water. He drinks some, but he spits more out. He doesn't need water. It doesn't hurt him, but it would be like a human consuming chlorophyll. There's nothing of use there.
Perhaps what's most odd about him are his sunglasses. It's not bright outside. It's not fully dark yet either though, and he still seems to be having trouble when there's any light in the sky. No pain-- or if there is he can't feel what it's doing to him, it's just.. it's the sun. He knows he's nocturnal.
This is the earliest he's ventured out on his own yet. He's only been conscious in this way now for nearing his second month. He's very much an infant all over again, learning how people in this era.. are. They're very different from what he remembers, and yet they're all very much the same.
The people on this street, he can somewhat blend in with. He looks a little scruffy. His hair is getting long again, and he needs to groom it. His stubble too, needs to be maintained. It's a good look for him, but if the idea here is to not draw too much attention to himself..--
Well. He should zip up first, but that's not a part of his plan.
Work has slowed for him, in part because of his own shortcomings at figuring what he's to do with himself now. All he's done is kill, eat, sleep, kill, fuck, eat, sleep, kill, fuck.. some sales here and there. He's good at what he does. People are drawn to him, because of his personality. He's very extroverted and very friendly, makes people feel like they've known him for years when in fact, he's just there to knock them out and sell them off for as much as he can.
It's how he afforded this nice jacket.
A deep, heavy sigh comes from the tall blonde, and he glances over the rim of his glasses at some of the passersby. They're becoming fewer, and if he wants to get any work done tonight he'll have to report back to the club, see what's on the menu. It's about that time.
..It is a nice evening, though. Even someone with as sick a mind as his can appreciate a decent evening skyline every now and then. It's just a shame he associates joy with hunting.
Posted 05-03-2021, 08:08 PM
This post was last modified: 05-06-2021, 07:50 PM by Nils Viklund
as the flower, as the viper
