Sometimes, you just need to cause some trouble. It’s stress relief, pure and simple—since he was barely a teenager, Petrel had taken a day every now and then and set it aside to just whirlwind through town, taking shit, causing property damage, vandalizing buildings, anything fun. It was good practice for when he had to do something real and serious, but beyond that, it was wild, it was high-energy, and it kept him entertained. Today was one of those days.
He had a few cans of spray paint hidden under his suit jacket, a matchbook tucked neatly in his jeans pocket, and his tactical acadias laced up tight and ready to roll. It was going to be such a good day. He had grand plans: tag a few joints, maybe steal a few little things (he needed a new watch, for starters) and if he could find the time to work his way up to it, he wanted to set something on fire.
Obviously, this was a large list to get through, because he could spend hours on any one of those delightful activities, and the first thing he needed in order to begin was a coffee. Or a frappuccino. Actually, he could go for a frappuccino, right now. This city, in particular, Petrel was aware of having a few Starbucks, and he continued off down the sidewalk with a spring in his step as he mentally mapped out the shortest route to one.
As he walked, however, he was so distracted with the thought of his morning treat that he wasn’t exactly paying attention to the stretch of sidewalk in front of him, and it came as a surprised when he felt his shoulder collide with someone else’s. Petrel was jolted out of his deliciously sweet, coffee-flavored daydreams as he whipped around to find the offender, his brow furrowing into a scowl.
“Hey, buddy. Watch where the fuck you’re going, would you? You gonna apologize?”
