Watching Haddad eat always inspired a repulsed fascination in Martin. His sandwich constructions always managed to be disgusting in new and unusual ways. So when he crammed the whole thing in his mouth, he was a little relieved and a little disappointed.<br/><br/>"Okay," Martin said with a shrug in response to Haddad's planned agenda. "Don't talk with your mouth open, man." Martin followed the other man as they walked away from the turnstile, hands shoved in his pockets. "Do you want me to carry that bag?" He asked. The street they were moving down was mostly deserted, which Martin supposed was due to the time. These experiments had to be carried out late at night because of that. He watched Haddad produce another sandwich and winced slightly as he bit down. He wasn't really sure where all that food went.<br/><br/>-<br/><br/>After finishing another spasm of coughing, Dmitri lowered his arms to a side and breathed in deep in an effort to relieve his aching chest. He silently considered Jeremi's offer and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He didn't want to need his help, but if he was being honest he did need it. Dmitri didn't want to be horribly murdered, but he also didn't want to cough to death. Jeremi wouldn't fix him, but he could at least not sleep in the garbage. Maybe take a shower if he was feeling optimistic.<br/><br/>And he could always use magic to get away if he had to, assuming that didn't kill him faster.<br/><br/>"All right," he said, sighing. "I'll take you up on your offer. Thank you." He couldn't really believe he was doing this, but he wanted to get out of here. It occurred to him that the Daywalkers he had seen earlier had vanished. He didn't really want to stick around to see what they would do next.<br/><br/>-<br/><br/>Pamela Harter was holding a large spray paint container with a fluorescent green cap, even though the contents of the can was white paint. She was wondering whether to just toss in the towel and just spray a cuss word on the side of the building or come up with something more creative.<br/><br/>While she had done graffiti before, it had been in her younger years, back when she was a rebellious high school student and not a werewolf. Then it had been done in an uncreative, vague rebellion against The Man. Now it was because she was bored. But she couldn't actually think of anything to do that was worth getting potentially arrested over. She sighed and shook the spray can, eying the already covered wall. This was probably a bad idea.<br/><br/>Then she heard footsteps.<br/><br/>In a moment of panic, Pam chucked the spray bottle- somewhere. She heard it thump against the roof of the building behind her, and she winced. Just as well, but who was coming? She stepped around the corner to see and was  annoyed to see it was just a teenage girl. Then Pam paused. What was a teenage girl doing alone in DC at night? She forced herself to look casual as the girl passed.  "Hey," she said without meaning to. "Where's your mom, kid?"