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Drake Coleman

"You can kill me, but I'll just keep coming back."

0 · 141 views · located in The Citadel

a character in “The Age of Gifted”, as played by Hyro

Description

Image


Full Name: Drake Levi Coleman

Nicknames/Aliases: Drake

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Gifts: Energy Manipulation, Dragon-Themed Powers, Self-revival(void)

Loyalty: The Wanderers

Description: Drake is a tall and lank figure, ranging around 6ft. Most of his muscle resides on his upper back, right around his wings, making him an avid flier. The rest of the boy's lack of strength he makes up in being quick and evasive.

Drake can regularly be seen wearing a white tank top and his signature sleeveless leather jacket. He never takes it off, as it has become a form of constant. Something that stays the same while everything around him is changing. Other parts of his apparel include black jeans, a pair of black and white sneaks, fingerless motor gloves, and a chain necklace. The necklace is adorned with a sentimental jewel at the bottom, shaped like a dragon tooth but made of some kind of crystal.

Personality: Though sometimes reclusive, Drake has definitely taken to the role of peacekeeper. His younger brother Kyle left a big impression on him after his death; The boy is seen constantly breaking up fights and consoling those around him. Caring more about the well-being of others than himself, Drake has done his best to keep the Wanderers from falling apart. Every so often, however, his temper gets in the way. The boy has a number of anger management issues which are linked to his Dragonic powers, so his rage will occasionally show its face and mess things up. He does his best to stay calm, however, in whatever way he can.

Skills: Drake has a number of skill sets, though none of them are ideal around the kind of people he's up against. Street smart is the best way to describe Drake. Without any real intimate education, the boy lacks any advantage on the intellectual spectrum. However, his potential for schooling is likely far above average. He's a great strategist when given the chance, as well as an excellent stealth asset. He is also very intuitive.

His energy powers give him the ability to sense those around him. He will usually know if someone new is coming around the bend. It is very hard to sneak up on him.

Weaknesses: While the boy is immune to heat, he is extremely susceptible to water and cold. What would take an hour for one character to get frostbite may take the boy a mere five to ten minutes.
Loved ones are also an Achilles heel. He is very likely to sacrifice himself if it means saving someone he cares about. The same goes for children, especially those around the same age as Kyle. 5-9 year olds, typically.

Brief History: Drake's mother, Charity Coleman, and father, Sebastian Coleman, were both two of the original chairmen in Erubesco. Both were highly regarded while they were alive. Sebastian, however, had a heavy drinking problem which developed early on. With Sebastian being an abusive drunk, Drake often got the short end of the stick. He stayed strong through it all, even focusing on keeping Kyle, his little brother, safe.

Kyle, fed up with all the fighting between factions, had joined Liberty in an attempt to bring the two together. It didn't end well, and the younger brother was killed during a public speech by an explosion, which was blamed on each opposing faction. Charity committed suicide after discovering Kyle's death. Sebastian, however, decided to take it out on Drake first, before joining his wife in the afterlife.

After receiving this news in a less than pleasant demeanor, Drake set off on his own, making the decision to shy from both factions. Having discovered the corruption on both ends, he started a group with Dawn and Rick, a group called the Wanderers. As a tribute to his little brother, he vowed to end the war between the factions once and for all.



Other:
  • Drake's favorite food is steak.
  • Drake is secretly really good with kids, but is usually too reserved to show it.



Kyle and Drake art
Image

So begins...

Drake Coleman's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Larke Sterling Character Portrait: Nicola Varren Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
The dark-haired boy had awoken rather early after much tossing and turning in his bed. Or perhaps it only seemed that he had awoken, seeing how he had trouble sleeping throughout most of the night. He had a lot to think about, after all, and not a lot to go off of when it came to solid answers.

His roommate had seemed nice thus far, so that was good. He could only hope he wasn’t disturbing the latter as he moved to the nearest window, especially with it being such an early hour.

It’s just… He wanted to watch the sunrise, that was all.

As he sat on the window sill, one leg propped up and the other on the floor, millions of thoughts reached his head, making it hard for him to focus on the lovely view before him. He had so many questions left, all of them clawing and wracking his brain, destroying any and all chances of a sturdy and substantial conclusion. Being told one could be royalty was… Well, overwhelming. He wasn’t even sure he could take such a role in the first place. Being a leadership position, he certainly didn’t feel qualified, no matter how much free schooling he was expecting to receive in the process.
Not to mention, it would be pretty hard to focus on schooling with everything else going on in his head. The memory block being the biggest hurdle of them all.

He still couldn’t remember a thing.

They said he was in some terrorist group, but… How does one even manage to do that? What interest could he possibly have with terrorists? And mind-manipulators? That sounded simply insane. Maybe a little scary, too. What did they make him do? And more importantly, why him of all people? There was nothing extraordinary about him, so why? What had been their intentions? Did he do anything awful? Had they really planned to use him and throw him away? And why the hell couldn’t he remember a single thing? Surely there should have been bits and pieces, at the very least, but it was all just a haze.

That memory of Larke… The only memory he had thus far. They had been prisoners, from what he could gather. He could sort of make out the pain he’d been in, as well as Larke’s concern. Were they in a militist cell? Among Liberty, perhaps?

That was the only thing that made sense.

His thoughts trailed off pretty abruptly as a slight groan escaped him. He clutched his head with one hand and gripped the window sill with the other, fighting an oncoming migraine. The pulsing and sudden fogginess made it hard to think much further on his amnesia.

What a pain.

Well, whatever. The viceroy had mentioned something about medical reviews or… examinations or something along those lines, and while it felt odd to look forward to anything hosted by Erubesco, some small shred of hope led to the possibility that perhaps he would get some answers there. Maybe they could even help him with this whole amnesia thing he was going through.
Maybe.

This all still felt very strange. Being in Erubesco, living inside the walls...
He felt out of place.
Surely his father was rolling in his grave right now.
The thought of this was satisfyingly spiteful, at least.

As the music came on, followed by a rather formal announcement, the boy listened somewhat absently. He had only really caught the end of it out of sheer amusement.

They were hosting a ball.

Much like Cinderella, Drake had never been allowed to go to such an event. Not that he had much interest in it to begin with.
Then again, as potential future Lord, perhaps he should consider attending just this once.

The setting changes from the-wasteland to The Citadel

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Rosette Eschelia Crimson Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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Anyone who had served as a Citadel guard knew why the latest patrol was called “the graveyard shift:” After shuffling back to the apartment around four AM, Mel had collapsed onto the couch, still in his uniform, falling as still as a corpse upon impact.



On nights like these, even his nightmares kept themselves at bay.

The early rustlings of Coleman, his temporary houseguest, did nothing to stir him. As the Citadel announcement music sounded over the loudspeaker, he rolled over for a moment, mumbling something about “two more minutes.” Mel tugged a pillow over his head as the full speech was given, and there it stayed as he fell back asleep despite the noise. 



‘Ten o’clock,’ he thought to himself as he drifted off again, ‘I’ll get up and get on with the day by ten.’

Then the doorbell.

There was a groan, (as well as a scarcely intelligible string of obscenities,) from the pile of blankets on the couch, and then a thump as Mel rolled out and onto the floor. “Coming!” he called, though he really wished he were not. He glanced back toward the bed and found Coleman not in it, but rather at the far end of the room by the window. 

Mel offered a nod and a vague grumbling that may have been supposed to come out as “Good morning, Drake,” and then pulled himself to standing by the arm of a chair.

He paused by the mirror next to the door, running a hand though his hair, fixing where it had been crushed flat on one side while asleep, and then rubbing his eyes. 

He did not bother checking the peep hole- the Citadel was a security masterpiece.

So, when the tired, slouching Acolyte in his crinkled uniform swung open his front door, he was more than a bit surprised to see a tall ginger in full armor standing in front of him. He stared at her with a bleary, dazed look for a moment, and blinked hard. 


“Um.”



His brow knitted together.



“Good morning?” he asked, fairly certain he had never seen this person in his life, “Is um… I’m sorry, but can I help you?”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Rosette Eschelia Crimson Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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Ruby momentarily observed the man, taking in his disheveled appearance, before sheepishly rubbing the back of her neck, smiling awkwardly at the equally awkward question of the tired-looking man. She decided to be blunt.

"I apologize for waking you at this godforsaken hour, but I find myself lost in this maze that is the Citadel. Could you be kind enough to give me directions to the main entrance?"

She shifted a little, and added with an apologetic look, "I haven't been back here for a while you see, and a lot seems to have changed in my absence..."

Like the adding of residential areas... stair columns that had practically disappeared while she was in the labs, and elevators that only seemed to reach a few floors out of many. The first she was ambivalent over, the second she thought unwise, although like the third, she could see some tactical value in it.

But while it made it harder to navigate for potential intruders, Knights returning from a long stint elsewhere would evidently experience the same fate.

Ruby sure as hell hoped she didn't come over as too suspicious. While the upper echelons would probably be able to clear her in case of an incarceration by a grumpy-looking acolyte, she wasn't to sure about that, still slightly bitter over the fact that her 'few months' in the labs had been extended to '23 years' without so much as a by your leave. They might even have forgotten about her altogether, what with most of the people that knew her being either dead or happily retired.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Rosette Eschelia Crimson Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
Drake heard the ringing of the door and glanced at it hesitantly. While he certainly COULD answer it, there was a very, very unlikely chance that whoever was at the door was for him. Luckily, the stirring of his new room mate assured him rather quicking that he would not have to bother with answering it after all. Which was good, because he certainly didn’t want to.

Mel had offered a disgruntled good morning, in which the only thing Drake could think to respond with at the moment was a simple nod. He still wasn’t used to the social interaction or even being in the same housing as someone who wasn’t family.

He had no idea how to interact with this guy.

As the door was answered and the person in question was greeted with some amount of confusion, Drake’s curiosity got the best of him. He swung his leg back to the floor and stood, silently moving over so that he could peer at the person through the door without getting too close to be deemed intrusive.

It was a female, apparently. She appeared to be some sort of knight, or at least, that was his best guess when taking into account the armor getup. She had bright red hair, too, which was… Well, uncommon, to say the least.

Then again, so were silver eyes.

Listening in on the conversation, he discovered pretty quickly why she was there and why Mel didn’t recognize her. The girl was lost. It was something he could relate with, at the very least. The Citadel was huge, after all, and he knew little to nothing about what all it held in store.

The winged boy didn’t feel any reason to say anything at the moment, so instead lingered and watched with mild interest.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Rosette Eschelia Crimson Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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Mel blinked hard. He looked at the woman while she spoke. He blinked again.



“Ah- um. Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, and took in a deep breath in the hopes that oxygen could bring his mind to wakefulness, “I can um, it’s tangled in here, yeah.” 

The woman’s full armor, as well as her confidence in knocking upon a random door spoke of confidence in her position.

She was likely a Knight, or possibly a Commander, as far as Mel could guess, and likely not someone he had the right to turn down if he had wanted to. 

Not that Mel had any plans of turning her down— Being lost on base was frustrating, and he had hated being in her shoes less than a week ago. Transfer troops frequently misplaced themselves on base, as did those returning from long deployments.



“Gimme a minute to get my boots on, yeah?” he said, offering a tired smile. He stepped back and held the door open with one foot and reached toward the shoe rack beside the entry and pulled on his left boot, and then switched feet to the other, all the whole trying to will himself awake. “And uh, I’m Mel. Well. Accolyte Melberg. But basically Mel. And um,” he pushed the door open further, “This’s Coleman, my roommate. So.”



With his shoes laced, he grabbed his keycard off of the hook by the door and nodded toward the hall, “I can help you find a datapoint, f’you want. We’ve got a few on the floor, to help people around, what with all the new construction and stuff. The resident halls got really jacked up after the fires, and stuff. So, nothing to be sorry about.”

Setting

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Rosette Eschelia Crimson Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
“Drake,” the boy corrected rather swiftly and, perhaps, a bit sternly, “None of that last name non-sense. Drake is fine.” Oh, how he hated being reminded of the kind of people he was related to. Not that he would bring it up. He was still considering the whole Lordship inheritance, after all, and he really didn’t feel the need to bring up how much he loathed the ones he was taking it from.

He gave a nod to the female in greeting, eyeing her outfit with analytical eyes. A knight, most likely, judging from the armor. “You’re clearly not new here,” he concluded. It was a short and rhetorical comment, perhaps even a bit rude if perceived in such a way, considering the implication it held.

"How the hell did she get lost?" was, of course, what he was really thinking.

His eyes trailed over to Mel who seemed hardly awake. Drake knew how late Mel had come home, having heard the man walk in while he was trying and failing to fall asleep. The winged boy also knew how little sleep his roommate had actually gotten as a result.

“Are you sure you’ve slept enough to function properly?” he mused, his tone making it seem more like a wisecrack than an actual concern. Despite the fact that he was aiming for being concerned.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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After a good bit of fussing (and and even great bit of false smiling) over showing the ginger-haired Knight how to use the base navigation interface, Mel managed to send the woman on her way in (what he presumed to be) the correct direction. 



Having done his good deed for the day, the post-nightshift worker plodded back toward his apartment with his roommate in tow. He swung the door open with a heavy arm, trotted down a hallway that his eyes were a bit too strained to see in proper focus, and plopped down to sit on the bed with his boots still on. The uncomfortable not-sweaty-but-still-weirdly-clammy warmth that came with being awoken and forced out of bed in the midst of a heavy dream seeped through his body, and settled into his gut with an inauthentic impression of illness that he knew would not let him return to sleep.


Mel ran a hand over his shoulder, pausing to knead a stiff muscle and roll an ache out of his arm. He sighed with a weight akin to an air-mattress with a hole being jumped on, and proceeded to shove himself back to his feet with a smile. “Well, Coleman,” he said, “if we’re already up, may as well get on with it.”

He turned toward the mirror by the kitchenette and did his best to make sense of his sleep hair, and then back to his roommate. “I’m going down to the cafeteria to see what they’ve got, and then I’m off until tonight. If you want to tag along. Or not. It’s uh-“ he trailed off, losing track of his own tired rambling and stopping to inhale through his nose and clear his head. “I’m getting coffee and food, if you’re down.”

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
Drake found the situation with the red-haired Knight slightly amusing, what with her being lost in her own community and all. In light of his roommate's disdain over the whole ordeal, however, the boy did his best to conceal his amusement, despite how humorous it was to him. He didn't say much as Mel offered assistance to the directionally challenged Knight, simply opting to observe(and make note of) the latter's guidance in directing her around the Citadel.

After following Mel back to their room, he couldn't help but notice his company's haze and exhaustion. Mel seemed ready to get going despite this, but Drake wasn't buying into the forced demeanor.

"Are you sure you don't want to get some more sleep in before jumping into your day?" the boy noted, eyeing the other doubtfully. Drake wasn't even sure if Mel would make it to the cafeteria without tripping over himself or forgetting where he was half-way there.

"I mean, I'll come with you if you insist on going," he conceded, eyes looking Mel up and down, "But only because someone's gotta keep you from spilling boiling-hot coffee on yourself."

Drake's last comment was a small attempt to tease Mel. Or, perhaps, a minuscule insult; an attempt for the boy to remain cold and distanced from his surroundings, as this was his usual defense mechanism.

Even he wasn't entirely sure what his intentions were yet.

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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Mel waved off the concern as he made for the door and held it open for the younger man to follow. “I’m up now that I’m up. And I’ll grab iced coffee, maybe. I guess.”

And then, with delayed reaction- “Oh. The hot coffee bit…” He laughed half-heartedly, nodding toward Drake, “That was a joke. Ha.” 


Moreover, he was looking for company that made him feel slightly less awkward. Even after several days of living with the new refugee, the idea that this boy had been held under the control of the very same people who had butchered half of his old unit made Mel uncomfortable. 



To make the understatement of the decade.

“But uh. Cafeteria may have waffles or something. So.”

Mel started off down the hall with Drake in tow, trying to make tired smalltalk by prodding at the first subject that wandered to mind. "Did you guys have like... Real food? Or... Do you remember, at all? If you ate waffles and stuff?"

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Soren Pelacour Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
Of all the questions Mel could have asked, his query over food seemed insignificant, but Drake would humor him. The boy's eyebrows furrowed as he squinted and tried to concentrate. He had spent all night trying to regain his memories to no avail, but maybe, just maybe...

A subtle headache started to form.

"I really can't remember much at all," he replied, frustrated, "It's all a blur-"

The boy paused as a memory flashed across his mind briefly. A flicker. There wasn't much context, just faint smells of sweat syrup wafting through the air and a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. There was a man holding a tray of waffles... Or were they pancakes? It was hard to tell, but the memory certainly wasn't negative. In fact, it brought joy to the boy and light to his eyes.
Like memories of home.

The man... That's...
It was Soren. He had baked a delicious breakfast for the Wanderers as he often did. There were others indulging in the home-cooked meal, their faces blurred but very clearly happy.

The memory had come quickly, and just as it had come, then it was gone.

Drake stood there for a moment before realizing he had stopped. He was swift to apologize and catch up. "Sorry. Er... We did. Have real food, I mean. Waffles, pancakes, the whole lot."

This was his first memory since he'd woken up... It wasn't much, but it was a start.
Finally, he was making progress.

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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The corner of Mel’s mouth curled up on one side, and his expression scrunched into something between bemusement and disbelief. His thick brows furrowed so tightly they nearly became one. 



“Huh,” he replied, shoving his hands down into his pockets, taking them out, and then rolling one shoulder as if he could not find a comfortable way for his arms to rest. In fact, Mel’s entire body had started to crawl with a far more profound discomfort than he had expected at Drake’s response. 



“I guess uh- I mean…”



His stomach turned at the thought of the Schipper’s brothers washing Saffir’s blood from their dirty hands so that they could pick up waffles and shove them into their mouths. 



“It’s kinda just weird, you know? I- I should have assumed that they eat decent food out there. No reason not to… It isn’t like they’ve got anything to…” 



He shook his head, hoping the image would shake away with it. What had he been expecting? That the terrorists would eat rocks and sand, and drink blood? 



Mel swallowed the rising lump in his throat and pulled at the collar of his uniform before speaking again. “It’s just weird to think of them as being people, who eat normal food and do normal things sometimes,” he replied at last, “The whole 'the worst monsters are men' thing. With uh— Well, I mean. You got dragged through all of the stuff they’ve done. So it must be harder for you to… Well..” 


He stopped short, noticing that his fingernails had started to dig into the flesh of his palms. “Sorry. For bringing it up.”



The door to the mess hall was fast approaching, and Mel swung open the door to hold it for Drake with a strained, apologetic smile. “I uh— It smells like the coffee may not be crap today?”

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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#, as written by Hyro
"It's fine, really. It's not like I remember much, so..." Drake trailed off.

It was pretty hard not to hear the mood change in Mel's voice, hard not to see the expression drop on his face. And even without all the obvious clues, his aura would have given his discomfort away to Drake regardless.

"You know, for something that bothers you so much, you'd think you would have told me why by now."

A pause. An observation. A selfless thought, flashing through the boy's mind. Perhaps he would vocalize it. Try to be comforting, at least a little bit.

"It must hard. Seeing me all the time. Since I was, well... One of them," he hesitated, "Brainwashed or not... But I know these Wanderers or Terrorists or whoever they are bother you. I'm not sure what they did or anything... I'm just... Well... Sorry, I guess? I know you're sort of stuck with me at the moment and that can't be easy..."

This mushy stuff sounded way worse out loud. He kind of regretted voicing it now.

"Ugh," a swift pivot of subject, "Yeah. Hopefully the coffee's decent."

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Character Portrait: Drake Coleman Character Portrait: Eugene Melberg
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Mel could hear his own blood throbbing against his eardrum, washing out the back half of what Coleman had to say. To say that it bothered him would have been an understatement, but it was not a tragedy he had any right to claim.

His right hand crossed his body to rub at the jagged scar on the opposite palm, the only physical trace left by the bullet that had shot his gun out of reach. Comparatively speaking, it was a very, very small price to have paid, given what had befallen the rest of his comrades.

“Doesn’t bother me,” he said as he picked up a cafeteria tray, putting on the practiced smile he had learned to use in front of his case counselor. “It’s in the past, anyhow. And there’s nothing that’s going to—“

Transmission from Knight Saffir Fisher

His hand flew to his earpiece, upon hearing the computerized butchering of Saff’s name, pressing the gadget in so that he could hear the transmission clearly.

“Hey, Saff. What’s—“

His face went pale.

The plastic tray clattered from his hands to drop against the cobbles, and Mel’s boots squeaked against the floor as he turned and pounded toward the doors. A waxy pallor blanched over his skin, standing out against the ring of cold sweat seeping through his shirt collar.

“I’m coming, Saff. Hold on. Are you sheltering?” Of course she was hiding. Stupid, stupid Mel. His raced down a stairwell taking the steps two at a time. He nearly took out a pair of Knight Squires on their way to training, but he paid them no heed as their shoulders clipped against his.

“What’s your 20? I- I’m going to the station now, okay? I’m going to grab the subtrain over—“

No. If Ronin were in the West District, incoming public transit would surely be closed, or rerouted.

“I’m coming, okay? I’ll grab a lift and be over there as soon as I can. Citadel response will be there before I am. You’re gonna be okay—“ His knees were shaking as he ran through the Citadel’s front entrance and over the wide wooden bridge across into the city.

The last time he had promised Knight Fisher that she would be alright, there was a case of lockers on top of her, and her blood was pooling in a slick puddle on the ground, which his boots slipped in when he tried to push the shelf up to free her. The ground had been wet from a burst pipe in the wall, and less than five yards away the bodies of Zhao and Lowy lay still with death. There was someone else coming down the hatch to the shelter, with quick steps and laughing conversation and—

He shook his head and began holding out his hand to flag a driver. “I’m on my way, Saffir. You’re alright,”

If Coleman or anyone else had followed his frantic flight from the building, he had not paid them any heed.