A patter of feet walking at his own pace was heard behind him, it was an early early morning; when these streets he often walked were dead. This kept Oblio well wary, wary that he might have to find himself on the run again.
A brow raises as his movements stop abruptly, light on his feet as he swiftly turned around; eyes fixed onto the smaller form, somewhat shocked, this was not at all what he was expecting.
“ -Who are you? “
philistinegenius








