[Ishu]

December 17th, Chicago. Sewers #17.

The man lay on his stomach, arms and legs bent up and splayed out, making little to no sound. He had been up for days, rampaging and tearing things apart, and when he was done he got wasted. Again. He reeked more of booze than he had any other time Leila had found him, though no bottles were to be found.

His clothes were dirtier than usual and his skin had a thin layer of dirt, mud and something else on him. His facial hair had grown out and become a bit unruly; he just needed to shave. The mess of a man was fast asleep, likely passed out from a drunken stupor, and he almost looked... old. His features were a bit more drooped but he still looked stern or even upset, even as he slept.