Xaer's God

3:15, Hunter's Pad. Still raining. A poodle is yipping at the rain, telling it to go away.

Tristan gets out of the car, and takes a deep breath. He walks up to the door trying to look both business-like and somewhat friendly. He knocks on the door, and waits for an answer.

You hear a barking dog, probably midsized, from inside the house. However, no one comes to the door, despite the dog's scratching on it.

Tristan knocks louder, and rings the doorbell if the have one. He tries to speak through the door, "Hello? Anyone home?"

No one is home, save the dog, who continually demands that you come in and give him some nom. Maybe a belly rub? Please?

Tristan checks the front door to see if it is locked. If it is locked, he knockes on the door again and calls out, "Hello? anyone home?"

It's locked. You get the feeling people will start to take notice of the strange man repeatedly demanding to know of people's existence around that strange trenchcoated person's door.

Tristan turns away and heads for his car, deciding to drive back to his home for now.

3:30, Lecroix Summer Residence. The rain's stopped again, as if it really can't make up its mind. Silly wet, you should burn it for its insolence.
A poodle comes up to your feet and starts barking playfully. You look like fun! Can he have fun? Please?

Tristan checks the poodle's tags, "what do we have here..." He is carful around the dog, unsure if its just an escapee or if he should continue his dose of paranoia.

A little 9 year old girl, one of the neighbor's kids, comes running up. "Silly Tawnie, you're supposed to be playing with me..." She's smiling anyway, so she's probably just teasing. Silly kids, shouldn't they be in school or something? Oh, right, 3:30, they're out by now.

Tristan lets the poodle go to the nabor-kid, and tries to resist the urge to punt it. He turns around and heads toward his home again, this time eyeing his house for its security flaws.

Hmm... the windows are generic, and as you just proved with the good doctor, that's not going to stop anyone from entering. Your parents didn't splurge enough for a proper security system either. Trouble is, they'd ask questions if you put one in all of a sudden. Not that you couldn't deflect them easily, but it's just one more hassle...

Tristan heads inside and hangs his suit up to dry. He pulls another pair of pants out of his closet and puts his shotgun and shells in them, then puts them on. Tristan then moves the crates into a closet of his, and puts his dirty laundry on top of them. He steps outside again, looking around the naborhood before locking the door, and then drives over to the club by his warehouse.

4:00, Club Frijoles. Still no more rain. You approve. Not many people here, though that's to be expected given it's only 4.

Tristan circles the club for a moment, head in one hand as he peers out the windows. "I'm the god of Fire. I should be able to burn everything, time included." After driving around looking for either pals to hang out with or rival hoods to beat up, if he sees none, Tristan drives for the cool doc to settle the score.

Silly lack of people. How dare they not be here when you need fuel to burn!
4:15, Cool Doc. The rickety stairs await, as well as some jerk who's going to take some of your hard earned money. Stupid bullets, they should learn to not hurt you.

Tristan gets out of his car, locking it behind him. He slouches as he walks up the steps and then hammers on the door with his palm. "Hey, open up."

After a few seconds, the guy comes back, wearing no shirt and a baseball cap leaning off his head. "Don't you kids know what time it is? Oh, you again. Got my money?"

Tristan walks in past him, "course. Remove the stitches would ya?"

"If you insist. Glad I didn't have to track you down and get my money the usual way. You'd be surprised how many idiots think they can skip the bill."
5:00PM, Cool Doc's place. -0/2 cash. You've got your stitches out, and the doc is a happy man. Yay.

Tristan gets up off the docs chair/table and replies with a warning tone, "Doc, if I don't pay my bill on time, you don't WANT to track me down." He walks back to his car and drives for the warehouse, stopping only to pick up a carton of cigarrets on the way.

"I assure you, I've seen worse corpses than you'd make. Try not to get shot up too much, ya hear?"
There's a line at the gas station. Silly people. Still, you get your smokes eventually.

5:15, Warehouse. No cops about. You approve. Some hipster in a dorky white fluffy hat wanders past. You're not sure how many joints he's smoked, but it's clearly at least one.

Tristan watches the stranger walk for a moment, and then steps out of his car and stalks the guy for a moment. He tries to come up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder. "You high or something?" He takes this opportunity to see what how a concious person reacts, and puts a bit of mana into the guy. "You look like you lit up a while ago, and could light up another now."

"Not out in public, man... cops are all around us. Trust me brother, keep that shit inside."
-1MP. Seems like any passion for fire is conflicting with his passion to stay out of jail.