Warren watched as the shifter moved to a booth only a few feet away. He was glad he had masked his scent. It appeared she hadnt noticed him so he acted as casual as possible. He grimaced. His chosen attire was anything but discrete, but it was comfortable, and had saved his life several times in the past. The treatment he was given while wearing it in public varied though. It ranged from people respectfully thanking him for his service to the same kind of hostility he had endured after Vietnam.<br/><br/>He adjusted his dark green vest and finished his meal. He kept a warry eye on the shifter and continued to act like what he looked like. A human with military paranoia. he was watching everything, an old habit he had developed in the jungles of Nam, and hed never lost it. It had saved him more times than he could count. He stood slowly and picked up his duffel, and frowned when his gun shined in the light. he had a carry permit for the weapon, and his military appearance stopped most questions about his gear he wore.<br/><br/>he paid the bill and left a good tip on the table as he turned and walked toward the doors and he muttered to himself as he looked at the snow.<br/><br/>"I've missed the snow. Brings back fond memories." he said to himself.