[And for a while, at least, her predictions prove to be true. He's looking for something all right, attention narrowed and honed as the sharpest of blades and as such the subtle creep and slink of a young woman's footsteps don't register for him, don't catch at his focused attention.
But it's only a matter of time.
He shouldn't be here, like this. Out and about without a Handler in tow, with no-one to hold the metaphorical leash and there's a danger in that, a danger to those around him yes, but also a danger to himself. Particularly in the unsteady wake of what he'd done. If caught, the punitive measures taken against him would prove to be a heavy thing to bear, and so when the sensation of someone following him finally sinks down into his awareness, it leaves him jumpy, on edge.
Not that it shows.
He'll keep moving with that strange knifey subtlety, movements all fluid precision and inhuman grace, but where he's going now, where he's leading them-- it's somewhere distant and quiet and out of the way where no prying eyes will follow. Somewhere he can dispatch an enemy or annoyance without being observed. He's heading into a warren of twisting alleyways, dirty and deserted but for the quiet sound of his steps and - softly, echoing his - hers. He has her scent, intends to set a trap of sorts. Leading them into a dead-end.
no subject
But it's only a matter of time.
He shouldn't be here, like this. Out and about without a Handler in tow, with no-one to hold the metaphorical leash and there's a danger in that, a danger to those around him yes, but also a danger to himself. Particularly in the unsteady wake of what he'd done. If caught, the punitive measures taken against him would prove to be a heavy thing to bear, and so when the sensation of someone following him finally sinks down into his awareness, it leaves him jumpy, on edge.
Not that it shows.
He'll keep moving with that strange knifey subtlety, movements all fluid precision and inhuman grace, but where he's going now, where he's leading them-- it's somewhere distant and quiet and out of the way where no prying eyes will follow. Somewhere he can dispatch an enemy or annoyance without being observed. He's heading into a warren of twisting alleyways, dirty and deserted but for the quiet sound of his steps and - softly, echoing his - hers. He has her scent, intends to set a trap of sorts. Leading them into a dead-end.
Will she follow?]