Moving down the sidewalk at a steady pace, hands in the pockets of his brown leather bomber, Blake scanned around. Taking a deep sniff, he checked to make sure he hadn't stumbled into anyone's territory, feeling at his arm as he did. Stupid Iminir didn't have to cut him like that, Yankee jerk... Still scratching at the long healed flesh under his sleeve, he kept on moving. He had no idea where he was in this city, though he knew he was heading south. Not much traffic as compared to yesterday, everyone hustling and bustling around those skyscrapers. He liked it better down here, where the buildings were shorter, and people didn't seem in a hurry without a reason.
Spotting some dork with radioactive hair climb out of a sewer, Blake pulled up short. It wasn't the weirdest thing he had ever seen, not by a long shot, but this guy was real thin, and he looked like a hunter. Add that to an affinity for the underground, and it rang a lot of warning bells for Beshilu, though the guy didn't look like a Ridden. In his experience, rat-men were twitchy, hyper, and tended to stay to the shadows. This guy was just walking the street, but even so, Blake didn't like it. Deciding he had nothing better to be doing, he started following the guy, keeping him just in eye and ear shot. If the guy was Beshilu, he wouldn't live out the night. If he wasn't, no loss to the Texan. Maybe he would lead interesting places.
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