Ezra poured the bottle of whiskey down the drain. The color seemed striking to him, and the stench of the liquid challenging, so he downed it, or attempted to, with a grip on the bottle that nearly shattered its glass and vomited his afternoon snack. Rats had always been his favorite, stout and round and larger than his palm... His tongue burned and he felt the bile rise in his throat once more. He gulped to push it back. "Too late to regret anything..." As soon as he watched, with a slowly rising satisfaction, as the liquid fell into the tube that led into the sewers - his hunting ground, but not his favorite one - before shoving the bottle into his box of other plastic and glass garbage. He would save those for a sale, but because fall was nearing its end and winter soon to arrive, people had no need of his trash. Ezra shoved his gloved hands into the pocket of his thick hoodie and gazed up at the sky. Gloomy. Dark, like his hair, which bluntly smelled like a fat man's ass, but he could care less in the cold. He wished he could just walk around like his cat friends did, but his vast size posed far too big of a threat than the careless mayor that governed the city. His nose perked. People bustled out of their houses and gathered in the central park, laid in front of the alleys where he stood. And slept. And lived. He poked his head out, checking if the commotion was worth his while, and had the intention of going down to the sewers when he caught the scent of forest leaves, rain, and blood. Animal blood. He whipped his head back at the sea of people gathering in the park. He walked out of the alleys and watched as a line of finely dressed, tall characters sauntered through the path the residents opened for them. They seemed wealthy, powerful, but he had never seen them before. Guests, perhaps? The people seemed to know who they were... Who were they? What were they? He asked himself, sniffing the air again only to find the same scent of blood coming from their direction.