Another night in the bed of someone else, trading his body for the bed more than the company, for something more than a couch or worse, a floor and a pillow, and a meal that was more than what he could scrounge the change up for during the course of the day. Altair didn't think of himself as being necessarily poor as such, because he usually ate and he usually slept somewhere more than the streets and he usually had money but it was a bad stretch. Still, there were places to go without a job and without money. Whether they wanted to or not, stores had to let you stay a while before kicking you out and there was always the subway, using his card loaded by a friend to take trips to god knows where, going back and forth underground to be spat out somewhere on the other side of the city where it was just as familiar. He'd had six years to get used to it. He didn't wait for the person -- girl, guy, he could hardly remember -- to wake up before stealing breakfast and heading out into the world, having tugged on his clothing again and finding a hat that he vaguely remembered as being his, which made it obvious that he'd stayed there before. Which meant he would probably be welcome again, and with that in mind he glanced at the address. Cars were going by and the sun told him that it was probably past noon, but that was something that didn't bother him all that much; with a mostly nocturnal schedule, this was early for him. He had enough for a coffee on hand and with that in mind, dashed across the street during a few second break, not quite smiling at the cursing that came after him. Not the best start to a day, but better than some. And better yet... he lit the slightly squashed cigarette he'd found with a nearly dead lighter, inhaling deeply and glancing at the people going back and forth around him. Yes, this wasn't a bad day.