The next day, when Compton climbs out of the fart sack he putters through his morning absolutions with more direction and urgency than usual. Avoiding most his collegiates, which isn't at all difficult as 20-something junkies are notoriusly night-hawkish, he starts to collect the odds and sods he takes on his road trips. Almost ritualistically after all these years. Such things as a bottle of Canadian Club, some charcoal, spray paint, rope, multi-tool, and some arcane choices from his library. Lastly he dons his ever present army coat and rolls some of the bodies laying around the Loft for some cash.