The weight of his body crushed his wounded arm against the wall. Blood soaked his sleeve, slicking it against his skin. Pressing two fingers against wound, he crinkled his nose in discomfort whilst beads of sweat crawled behind his ears. The assignment wasn’t hard to track amongst the mist and dipping boats near the harbor. What he didn’t anticipate was an upheaval from the man. Even the ugliest pigs still have a flare to strive.
Pressing a palm against the wall, he eased himself off. Time was of the essence, he needed to leave with haste. Standing like this left him vulnerable.
Whenever sleep would elude him, Teodor would thread through the city’s streets. The quiet offered him the same peace the way rest did. Though thieves and troublemakers were more active in such ungodly hours, it made it easier for him to maneuver with less people in vicinities.
A long sigh escaped as he found himself by the harbour. He looked at the night’s sky. Starless they were, the illuminating moon provided him a sense of comfort.
He continued to thread.
Turning, he noticed a shuffling figure by the wall. Hesitant, he had almost turned away when the corner of his eyes noticed familiar details -- in a hooded clad. Hesitation was still there but curiosity had began to creep.
Lupo.
Upon realisation of who the other was, he picked up his pace. He didn’t lend a hand just yet but he was near enough to catch if ever the Prowler’s body would decide to give.
