Standing atop a rooftop, hidden by the shadows as he leaned against a chimney, Reaper looked at the crier for only a brief moment  to listen to the message. He considered it only for a moment, and no longer before turning to leave. It mattered little to him, he wasn’t a fighter, he was a killer. Dropping down from the rooftops behind an alleyway, he couldn’t help but notice a few wanted posters. Narrowing his eyes on one, he couldn’t resist the impulse to rip it from the wall and shred it to pieces. He paused when he faintly heard a familer voice, and made his way back from the alley to peer at the podieum once more, only to raise an eyebrow. Crosswind.<br/><br/>Seeing him, he decided to duck back into the alleyway. He’d never personally met the man, but he wanted no chance he’d see him. With that being said, he turned and made his way down the opposite end of the alleyway.<br/><br/>Some time later, he found himself leaning against a wall eating an apple he’d stolen from a fruit stand. “This place is just another dead end.” He muttered to himself, frustrated he was no closer to his goal then when he’d began this journey. He went to take another bite of the apple, only to groan as it had withered and rotted in his hand from his irritation, “Cursed hand,” he spat before tossing the apple onto the ground. Though the very moment it splattered, he heard two shots in quick succession, and for the very briefest of seconds, he looked at the apples remains as though it were the cause.<br/><br/>Shaking his head from the absurd notion, he turned to the sounds of screams and rose an eyebrow, an expression that was lost from beneath the magical shadow of his hood.  He debaited about looking, but since he was certain the man he was looking for was not here, he didn’t believe he’d loose anything  with a simple observation.<br/><br/>Turning, he started to scale up the side of the building he was leaning against, his hands finding holds were few could until he reached the top and followed the sounds until he found the source.  Someone, a woman by the looks of it though the wrappings around her could be misleading, was running from the local guards.  Seeing the revolvers, he knew who had fired the shots at least, though he was alittle less then certain as to why.<br/><br/>“Break the law did we?” He mused to himself, crossing his arms as he observed. After a moment, he smiled, before letting out a soft whistle like that of a songbird, and nodding to the alleyway below him.  He figured if she was observant enough to catch it, he might be willing to help.  He knew it was a foolish thing to do for a random criminal, but he couldn’t help but think of the many times he’d been chased by a city guard, and what an annoyance the scene could be.