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Night fell slowly and gently, sighing as the last beams of the sun’s light fell beneath the horizon, submitting to the softer body of the night. Within the cloudless heavens shone a half-filled moon, an eye that illuminated with silver tones the darkened world beneath. There was no wind that moved through the lands, and the world was strangely still. But it was not a stillness that invoked a feeling of foreboding. It was a stillness that characterized the limbo between sleep and awake, a comfortable feeling that soothed and called for sleep.
But Cwmfen nic Graine resisted that urge. She had traveled from Dahlia once more, and with the wounds that bore her down, the effort had been long and slow. She had worked through her pain with gentle diligence. And the work that she was putting her body up against was apparent through the light perspiration that beaded her brow and dampened her coat in the cool night. But these days had been warmer than those days prior, and she was intent on keeping her body moving, if only through simple walking. There was a great unrest within the warrior, and it made her more aggressive than her usual tranquil self. She was frustrated by the wounds that she had received. And while she was holding a great dislike for the coyote brute that had attacked her, she was feeling a great shame for herself more keenly. She should have been careful. Should have been prepared. And yet, all that was in the past, now. There was only the future to look to. And so the female had made the slow journey back to the lake, to the scene of the attack.
The smell of the cool water was light as she stood overlooking its shore. The warrior stood tall and proud despite her wounds, and she grasped the Raven Spear but did not use it for support. The white orbs watched the place intently, as if replaying the scene in her head. But finally she felt her weariness and let it overtake her, and, setting the spear into the earth, she lay within the grass. The scar upon her back was tight as she moved, but it was healing well, as were the other wounds upon her body. Soon, there would be no evidence of them save for to the touch. With a sigh, the female turned over onto her back and watched the stars, but there was a belligerence within the warrior, and it flickered there like a quite flame. Her body cooled quickly in the air, and she gave a slight shiver as she turned onto her stomach. Her woad bound hand brushed against something soft, and she lifted it with gentle fingers. It was fur. Slowly the female brought her maw near to scent it, and she recognized the scent of her attacker immediately. With a quite resolve, the female grasped it in her hand. She would take it to the Inferni boarders and ask for the name of its owner.
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I HOLD SECRETS FLAME
The man dashed through the night lands like a wraith. Moving so quickly that anyone he passed would have thought it just a breeze passing through the tree limbs. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to patrol outside of the city this evening. Just a gut feeling. He had found through the years that his gut was usually not wrong. Perhaps it pertained to the mass murderer that was out there somewhere, probably searching for his next victims. If only he had come across the crime scene earlier. He might have been able to gather more clues. Unfortunately by the time he had reached it the only scent was that of death and decay. The only clues he had were the dismembered arms and the splinters of wood. Barely anything at all.
The coyote stopped in a rather large tree, hidden eyes searching the surrounding area. Black nose sniffed at the air, seeing if there were any scents of interest. Ears perked when he caught the scent of the woman he had sparred with, Cwmfen, on the night air. Mixed with the faded yet unmistakable smell of blood. A small inkling of concern grew in his mind and he leapt to the next tree, following her smell. Whatever had caused the blood had not happened this day. Still, perhaps she needed some sort of assistance. Maybe she had come across someone who could be a potential suspect in this case.
Silently stopping in a nearby tree, he saw her banded form sprawled out near the small lake. It appeared that she was in no need of immediate assistance, so he sat there watching for a few moments. Not because he was suspicious of her. It was just his routine. Observe and then make contact. A lifelong habit that would be impossible to break. He watched as she grabbed something off of the ground and brought it up to her nose. Quietly he jumped down from the tree and stood there, allowing her to see him. "You okay Cwmfen?" Onus' feet were planted in the ground, waiting for her leave to approach.
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Cwmfen was too involved within her own contemplations to have noticed that she was no longer alone. The black fae’s eyes were fixed upon her closed fist. And while she wished to feel an undying hatred and need to pursue her attacker, the fervor was lacking within her soul. Her mind wandered back to what her father had said, and despite her father’s flaws, she had to admit that he was an intelligent being (another thing that he had taught her was to admit to even the enemy’s strengths). The soulless crow-wolf had told her that doomed is the warrior whose enemies have all died. And her mother had taught her that hate was weak, allowing room in the soul for needless things of hindrance to a warrior. The warrior sighed quietly in this small defeat. Nevertheless, one day she may have the pleasure of challenging the creature without honor. The soft sound of landing broke through her thoughts like a cracked whip. The female’s face lifted abruptly, a snarl ready upon her lips. But the white eyes immediately saw that there was nothing to be gained, for the approaching creature was no enemy of hers.
“Onus,” the alto melody greeted with apparent surprise. She had not expected to see the coyote here, but of all the coys she knew, there was none better with which to share company. The black fae smiled lightly as she lowered her fist to the earth, keeping concealed the thing within. The woad bound ears pricked forward at the sound of his voice, and his inquiry seemed to find exactly the manner of her situation. A wry smile tugged at her lips. “I could be better,” the female replied quietly. “Or worse.” She could be dead, she decided. But was not paradise in Death? But she knew that it was not her time. She had not felt that it was. She looked up at him, inviting him to be near to her with a mere glance. Of all the creatures she had met, she wished that a fellow warrior would not have seen her in such a weakened state. If he, as she, were governed by instinct, perhaps such weakness would invoke a need to silence the life. And yet, because he was a fighter, she was glad that it were he, and not some one who would not understand her frustration, that would share her company.
At first the female was reluctant to rise for the weariness and pain in her beaten body, but she could not disrespect this male. Careful to use the strength of her left arm, the female slowly made the effort to rise. With a soft exhalation of her exertion, the female pushed herself up, ignoring the itching pain in her hip and back. If she had been given the chance to live in the face of defeat, the warrior would better herself, strengthen herself, and rise stronger from those ashes. Having risen, the female swayed slightly, for the aid of the spear was not near enough to implement. But the female was not left without an ounce of strength, and she steadied herself. As she had risen, the female’s white orbs had been fixed upon the earth, but they rose now to find the blindfolded male. With a sigh, the female asked, “Any luck in your vigil for Justice, City-Knight?”
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I HOLD SECRETS FLAME
Startling any other creature with his sudden appearance would not have struck him as odd, but she was different. She was like him. So for her to be so caught up in her head that she was unaware of another presence, no matter how silently it had appeared, gave him a hint as to her mindset. He was glad to see her snarl disappear as soon as she realized whom had joined her. In the woman he saw a reflection of his younger days now long since passed. Defeat was written all over her and he had little doubt that there had been foul play by the other party in the matter. After having failed at his mission when he was younger he had looked much the same as her. So consumed in his failure that he lost all track of the real world.
Nodding in response to her confirmation of condition he moved forward to stand next to her with her leave. Onus almost wished she hadn't felt the need to rise. It was clear that she was still healing from the ill-fated encounter. For a moment he felt as if he should offer her his hand as she had him that night, but he did not. This was different. Then it had been a gesture of respect. While this would not have been disrespect it would have no doubt hurt her already injured pride. Instead of asking further about how she felt, he used a different tactic. "Who did this? What happened?" There had been some crime here. The man just knew it.
"Hrm. More problems than solutions." Coming to this place he had thought it would be boring. Nothing like the scum filled streets of the cities he was used to. For the first few weeks it had seemed that he had been right. But with the emergence of this mass murderer things had taken a turn towards the more sinister. "Found scene of mass murder in southwest. Rapist on loose as well. Don't know if related. Not enough clues." The vigilante doubted she would have any information about either the madman or Conri Church, but he knew that if she did she would give it to him without his asking.
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The tuft of fur hid in her fist and was forgotten. The warrior was grateful for the coyote’s silent understanding. She was glad that he did not rush to her aid as others would, to hold her up when she could hold herself. There was not an overbearing sense of pride within the warrior, who practiced the quiet existence of an enlightened warrior, but what pride she had was there, flickering now faintly. But the other seemed recognized that and refrained from doing so. The woad marked fae smiled her thanks to him, a faint gesture, but a genuine one nonetheless. Briefly, the white orbs watched as he came near to her and noted his health. At least he, who followed a nobler cause than she, was well.
Cwmfen frowned slightly as he asked, reminiscing once more upon the entire scene. Before she answered, the white orbs looked past the blindfolded coy, her eyes drinking in the darkened waters and the shore and the dried grasses. She wondered what it had looked like from there—the fight, that is. And all she could remember was her attacker’s face, and his scent, and the scent of their blood intermingling as they had battled. Then, with the sound of her own snarls echoing in her memory, the female turned her gaze to the male at her side. “I was attacked by an Inferni coyote.” The alto melody was quiet as she spoke, but she did not mind sharing this with the vigilante, feeling that it might be at least be of interest to him. “I had fallen through the ice,” she said at length, and motioned to the lake, but it was thawed now, the waters warmer without the threat of death mingling in their depths. “And I failed to overcome him.” The last was said with a certain amount of darkness flickering in that melody. There was no humiliation in her, however. But there was the though that she may have shown weakness in Dahlia to Inferni, and that troubled her.
Her body grew tired again, her muscles trembling with the effort. “Do you mind if we sit?” the female asked with a wry smile, and she lowered herself to her knees first before sitting. She grit her teeth against the tightness in her hip that threatened to rip, but it held against the strain. She would have lain, but the grass was harsh against her back, and so she carefully held herself up with her left arm. The warrior then looked back at the coyote, responding to him with her light song. “But if all problems were solved, there would be no use for people like us.” And of course, perhaps that was a good thing. “I heard whispers of such a thing, and I thought of you,” the she-wolf said with a smile. And she had been right to think that this male would be there in his endless battle for that blind mistress Justice. “I wish I could help, but I know less than you do of these strange calamities.” Her smile became apologetic.
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I HOLD SECRETS FLAME
The coyote clan. Somehow he should have guessed. While he had made no headway in his search to find their darker dealings apparently it had found him. His first night going to their borders had made him more suspicious, if only by the actions of the hybrid male. He had wanted them to seem the victim but it appeared they might have made themselves and self fulfilling prophecy. While the woman he had met from there had seemed level-headed whoever had done this to the she-wolf was a damn coward. Attacking someone who was already weakened. There was no sense behind such an act. Only malice. "Have had suspicions about clan. No proof though. Now I do." Attacking a weakened wolf for no reason was the sign of the abuser, not the victim.
"No." He lowered himself to the ground alongside her. Legs criss-crossed underneath his body while his back was stiff as a board. It was painfully obvious how hard the fight had been on her body. He would find that worthless coyote and take him off of this earth, just as he had so many other criminals. Then he would have to investigate the rest of the clan more thoroughly. The vigilante didn't like the feeling he got from the hybrid that refused to give him straight answers. "What did they look like?" It could be difficult to delve up clear memories from battles, but any little bit would help.
"Hrm. Maybe. World a sick place. Scum will always exist somewhere." Onus didn't fool himself by thinking he could rid every piece of garbage from the face of the earth. Though he fully intended to rid the world of as many as he could before he died. He slightly shook his head. He hadn't expected her to have any information for him. He had little enough for himself. "Got to scene too late. Only smell left was death and rotting flesh. Many of the bodies had their left arms removed. Put into pile. Think it could be someone missing a limb." Cloaked eyes looked at her milky ones. The question was apparent.
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Oh! I saw “The Watchmen” today, ^=^ The story line didn’t impress me, but some of the content was cool, ^=^ Now I know a little more about that one guy that Onus is based off of (Rorschach?) and your title, ^=^
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The warrior felt a small measure of relief when the blindfolded coy sat with her. She noted his erect posture and was impressed by his disciplined mind. The white orbs, bright even in the dim darkness of the night, saw him watching her—or at least felt his gaze upon her—and tried to ignore the weakness of her body. But somehow, she felt that his gaze was not degradingly critical. A smile flickered across the black fae’s maw. “You were right to suspect,” the female replied quietly, but she wondered whether that attack was enough evidence for him. She wondered how the male had come by his strange intuition, that intuition that seemed to read and know things even in the dead silence of ignorance and deception. Justice had an excellent servant indeed. “That clan has had conflicts with my pack in the past. It was an unwise move for that coyote to attack a Dahlian, especially a leader.” The female contemplated this fact, and she wondered why indeed her attacker had attempted to take her life. And he had nearly succeeded. But this second chance that Bane had given her was almost miraculous in the warriors mind, for, to her, there was only victory and death.
They. The female grimaced inwardly but kept her outward expression quite still. If only there had been more than one attacker. “He was...black and brown. Perhaps with some lighter shades in between....” It was difficult for her as she had never gotten a clear look for all the frenzied attacks he had thrown at her. Frenzied, untrained. And still she had not overcome him. “But his eyes were red,” she said, suddenly remembering those strange eyes devoid of reason. “Like blood.” Then she fell silent for several moments as she looked up at the world that opened out before her, and she listened to the soft song of the night and to the soft whisper of the feather as the wind sighed upon her hair. The scene was so peaceful now, as if in denial of what had happened. Or perhaps what had happened did not even matter. It had passed and lives had been allowed to continue.
“But I have a chance to improve myself,” the female said quietly, almost inaudibly. Then she listened to the sound of her body’s injured song and felt that incessant pain, quiet now in the presence of another. She looked back to the blindfolded coyote and smiled faintly, those white orbs almost glowing in the night. “I don’t think that I could live without it,” the warrior’s quiet melody replied. And she felt that it was true, that she could not live life fully without that conflict. It was a part of her soul, and without was she would be only part of a whole. Perhaps it was not a good thing for which to wish for, for societies constantly strove for peace, and so her passion was to kill for it.
The description of the scene that the male shared with her was strange. It was most definitely a scene of a crime, for creatures of honor did not disturb the bodies of the dead even if the dead were the sworn enemy. The mystery must have been something with which the male beside her now toiled over. She listened carefully to his description, and the peculiarity of the limbs caught her attention. “A missing limb?” the female repeated quietly to herself. She had heard of only one wolf with such a description, but she had never seen or smelt the creature. And the information had not come to her directly—she had overheard others speaking of it. But the female was often a taciturn creature for her introverted demeanor, and she had learned to listen well. “I have heard of one such male with a missing limb. I cannot recall his name.... Church, perhaps? I think that there is someone within Crimson Dreams that can tell you....” But the female wasn’t certain.
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Oh yeah? You really should go read the novel. The movie did a great job of staying true to the book but for someone who hadn't read it it could be a bit hard to follow completely. Yeah, Rorschach is the one Onus is based off of 
I HOLD SECRETS FLAME
To be honest he had nearly forgotten about the pack that Inferni's war had been between, only that there had been one. But now he had once again made the connection between Cwmfen and that pack. That pack that harbored that brown brute that he so loathed. While he wasn't certain he knew that the man had probably survived their little encounter. If he had been in his right state of mind he would have made sure that the scumbag was finished. However he had been crazed, out of control. Not only that but he didn't like using weapons to kill someone. He preferred to take their life with his own two hands. Weapons were a last resort. He didn't understand how a pack that had this lady warrior as a member also tolerated such as him. If he ever met Haku again the wolf would not be so lucky as the last time. "Yes. The war. Have heard about it." Though really only from the coyote clan's side.
The description was nothing special. Could have described any coyote, even himself. Though the eyes were a good clue. The amount of canines he had run into with red eyes were few and far between. Little did he know how common that eye color was in some of the bloodlines of this land. Still, surely it would not be hard to discern the individual who had done this from the others. He could smell a cowardly criminal from miles away. "Hrm. I see. Will have to look for him. Doubtless he's attacked others." Someone like that had other victims. They were not one time offenders. But really, were any of them? One time was enough for Onus to find them guilty for life.
Masked head nodded. Yes. With failure came improvement. At least for people such as them. If they did not improve they died. It was as simple as that. "Yes. Must always improved. Failed when younger. Not much anymore though." There was nothing bragging about those words. Just the same monotone, matter of fact way that he said everything. He was not a man of hubris, he was one of fact. Veiled eyes stared into the distance along with her's. "Me either. Would have no purpose. No mission." Though the world would never take away his reason to live. It was too easy for mongrels to live and hide in it.
It had been a slim hope that she knew of any creatures missing an arm. It would be a difficult way to survive, that was for sure. Doable, but far from easy. Though as she guessed at the name his head turned sharply to look at her. Could it be? Could it be the same slim that had raped Anu's mate? "Church? Conri Church?" If that was true, if he missed a limb, then he would search restlessly for the male. Not only had he raped but he will have become Onus' prime murder suspect. When he found him he would kill him. Regardless if he had been the murderer or not. Rape brought down death just as well as homicide.
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“I’m sure he has....” The alto melody was a barely audible murmur, and the female nodded silently and was quiet, as if in thought. But if she were, the thought was both deep and superficial, as if the subconscious were surfacing and not the other way around. Her mind wandered over the flash of the attacker’s maniacal smile as he had moved to attack, and she turned that thought over in her mind as if feeling the weight of a cool river stone. “Some beings have a reason, whether it is hate or love or passion or jealosy. But he...” And the quiet melody paused as she turned that cool rock over again. “He was not even curious.... he was empty.” Creatures like that... there was something wrong with them, some imbalance within their mind. The female thought of the imbalance man had created in nature, and she thought and suspected that perhaps man’s legacy and that virus that allowed wolves like her to shift between three forms had epitomized itself within the minds of some. The minds like that of her attacker.
The white orbs turned to look at Onus, to try and meet his gaze that remained ever hidden from her view for that blindfold. She wondered once more, as she perpetually would, what eyes lay behind it. She wondered what his soul looked like from there. “I suppose if you found him, Justice would be served.” A faint smile flickered across her woad bound maw. The male was a unique creature. He was so able to remove himself from others, to see clearly and serve Justice without question. And she wondered if there were any other attachment and worth in his life aside from that intangible entity that he served. “But, if you have not, I will look myself.... once my wounds have healed.” And the warrior would try to be patient and wait for the day when she would be strong enough once more to defend herself and others.
And what would she do? She was already without her passion often. Peace did not make a good warrior—only good practice. But perpetual war was not a healthy thing for the earth, and the warrior understood that keenly. And so she was quiet, patient, enduring, as her mind and body had been trained to be. But life was a kind of battle, too. But she was curious once more about the blindfolded male. “What does a champion of Justice do when he does not pursue Her requirements?” Her musings were quiet, gentle, almost inaudible as if she were allowing him to ignore it. But then she thought that perhaps there was nothing else for him, that there was only that single cause. The black fae’s auds swiveled back momentarily as if listening for something before the returned at the sound of Onus’ voice.
“Yes, I think that was his name,” the female responded. But she did not lay her statement in an absolute, for she did not want any miscalculation to waste the coyote’s time. “I remember thinking how ironic it was—his name, I mean.” And the warrior had never met or seen the three legged creature in question, but she had remembered that the stories tied with that name were not glorious. It was an infamous name. Cwmfen turned to look at the male once more, wondering if he would depart from her company to pursue this mystery once more.
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I HOLD SECRETS FLAME
He watched her silently as she recalled back onto her attacker. There was more bothering her than just the defeat. But at her words he knew all too well the type of person she was describing. Perhaps such beings were scarce here but they were not other places. The cities crawled with such vermin. "Hrm. Yes." The masked man had encountered many of such a type in his lifetime. They were truly empty. Or just truly mad. Perhaps a little of both. But that didn't matter. What was important was that he knew such individuals were inherently dangerous and needed to be removed from society. There was no helping them (though he was not one to believe in rehabilitation).
Yes. If he found him justice would be served. Maybe he could not always succeed in killing those he deemed worth of the death penalty, but at the very least he would mark them and give them a good beating. A mark, such as the "X" he had given that made coyote in the spiderlands, would make others think twice about getting anywhere near someone such as them. It wasn't the type of scar someone would give themselves and he did it in places where it would be hard for them to do it to themselves anyway. He wanted it to be clear that the scar was intentional. A warning. "Yes. Justice will come to him. Even if not by my hands." Though he would prefer it that way.
His mission was all the man had. He existed for no other purpose. Luckily for him it was a purpose that gave him an endless amount of tasks. "Requirements never filled. Always some bastard out there doing something wrong. I've seen things normal people only have nightmares of. Butchered children fed to the rats. Women split from collarbone to pelvis. I'm one vaccine fighting against a million diseases. There is no rest. There is nothing else." Some may pity him for his life. That he felt that he had to do this. But those were the people that deceived themselves into thinking the world wasn't that bad. He kept the shadows at bay.
Clawed hands flexed in his lap. He had had a feeling. An unexplainable, unquantifiable one. At least that was until now. It may not be solid proof but it was something. More investigation would be required but at least right now he had lead. "He raped a woman in Crimson Dreams. Only takes a small step to go from that to murder." Though both bought death in Onus' book. This Church man was a festering boil on the lands that needed to be eliminated. "What did you hear about him?" Perhaps there was even more that he didn't know of.
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“But better by your own hands.” The alto melody was quiet and soft in the darkness of the newly fallen night. A soft smile graced the lips of the black fae. Yes. Justice. And Justice must be served. But, at times, the female wondered if it would be Justice. It was not that she sought to take revenge, for that was not her intent. Her intent was to make better herself—her body and strength, technique and mind—so that she may better serve her pack, whether it be in war or simply in a duel. But this intent that she held could be both selfish and selfless, both of which could not be utilized to serve Justice. Both Selfishness and Selfishness required opinion, to be engaged. Justice required something near to apathy, a withdrawal so far into the self that the distance was insurmountable. Justice required one to be impersonal, to be able to view and see what things are and not what they simply seemed to be. It was a difficult thing, and the warrior did not find such withdrawal necessary in her personal pursuit within the martial field. Indeed, she could accomplish such withdrawal into the self, but the thrill of battle was at its height when she could experience the satisfaction of making physical contact with the enemy, then taking its life so that it may no longer bring harm to that which she was protecting.
And so when the blindfolded male responded, the female could not help but smile. It seemed to her, though she had only known him for a short while and thus could not judge with a certainty, that this male was completely withdrawn within himself, made impersonal for the services of Justice. “Have you ever become emotionally involved,” the soft melody inquired, and her curiosity was genuine. But it occurred to her, then, that he might be. Perhaps injustice and crime angered him, and that was what moved him to cleanse the world of such creatures. But then, while anger was an emotion, did not anger create a distance? But she wondered what the male thought of himself. And his descriptions did not make her cringe, though it was not pleasant. She knew that such things existed and did not ignore such an existence. But, unlike the male, she had not devoted her life to the purging of such horrors. It was a wonder that he had such a great will. And his metaphor was fitting. “Your devotion will permit you to bring Justice upon those who show such disrespect.” The woman saw such things as disrespect, and perhaps it was, put in milder terms.
And this Conri Church that had entered their conversation—he was one such creature that committed such disrespects. Rape. Her father, the crow wolf, sought to rape her, and perhaps he still did. For a moment, her thought wandered to her father, to the strange attraction and fear that she felt for him. It was that single thing that continuously tainted her soul. Mentally, she brushed away the thoughts, turning her white orbs upon the male as she struggled to focus her mind upon this reality. “It is the sign of one with no control—or even one with unquenchable desire.” Whether the desire was to possess or to humiliate did not matter. Rape was rape. “I’m afraid that I know nothing more of him....” the female apologized. “I have never had the pleasure of meeting him.”
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Whee I love these two. If you ever want another thread just let me know 
I HOLD SECRETS FLAME
"Hrm," he grunted in response. It was an affirmation, but at the same time it didn't matter much. As long as justice was served it didn't matter if it was by his hand or not. The world had a way of equaling things out for itself. But the process was slow. Painfully slow. So he sped it up. To save lives and bring down the much deserved retribution in a timely manner. Preferably right after the crime had been committed. That way the criminal mind could make no mistake in thinking that it did not deserve punishment. But at the same time the man had no qualms with rectifying old wrongs either. Yes, he liked doing what he did, and if given the choice he would kill every bastard himself. If he found and killed this coyote he would accomplish his goal once again. But eventual death was really the one and only thing that mattered.
At one point, when he was little, he might not have been so withdrawn. At times he thought he could remember being simply a normal little child. After his mother had attempted to end his life though he had locked himself away. He had never felt connected to anyone or anything but his purpose since that point. Never gave anyone the chance. "Injustice angers me. Criminals anger me. Though only to the minutest sense." Even in anger he was calm and calculated. He never let any emotion, not even anger or hatred, get control of him. The encounter with Haku had been one of the few instances where he lost control. But it had been expected. The scum had crossed the line. Nobody was permitted to remove his mask. No one.
Never before had he met another that understood him half as well as Cwmfen. It was strange for him. The lone, mint-smelling coyote he had met in the city had come close, but not even he truly understood. He had done it because he was hiding and to protect those he loved. Onus did it for no one but himself. He was nothing but a tool of justice and that was all he would ever be. It was hard for any normal creature to comprehend. But this woman came the closest. Even if she was not the same, she could understand.
The man's head nodded. Nothing more. There was plenty to go on now. The rape had been enough but now he was also the prime murder suspect. Now that he had a somewhat concrete lead he should get back to work. While he was sitting here the madman could very well be plotting his next attack and his next victims. "Should be going. Must find this man." Fluidly he rose back to his feet, looking back down at her. "Know where to find me if need me."
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