When the last customer had finally left,  Leofwine worked with his boss to put all the weapons away, the mats, and everything else; the dirty, but essential task of clean up.<br/><br/>"Hey, I'm gonna hit the showers before I head back. Is that cool?" Leofwine found himself inquiring.<br/><br/>"Sure, sure, Leof. Just make sure you lock up, eh?" The Filipino man pronounced his name incorrectly, like 'leaf'; but it was a minor thing, having more to do with his accent than any intentional or unintentional mispronunciation. It didn't bother the Hunter.<br/><br/>" 'Course I will." When the last of the cleanup had been done, he bid the owner a farewell and good night, and spent a solid half hour  scrubbing himself clean. All the training of the beginners was a sweaty, tiring affair, and the clean up was just dirty work.  The hot water didn't just cleanse him, it also rejuvenated him, offering him a strange sort of revitalizing nourishment.<br/><br/>But all good things must come to an end, and soon he would be drying himself off, and dressing himself up in his street clothes and biker gear. He'd  shut off the lights as he made his way out of the building, exited it, and made sure the double doors were locked up nice and tight.<br/><br/>He paused outside, staring around the empty parking lot. It was night time, now, and he wasn't sure what it was...more likely then not his nerves, but he always felt like someone was watching him when he left work.  Yet, he'd never seen hide nor hair of them, and simply chalked up the strange feeling to good old fashioned paranoia.<br/><br/>He'd mount his bike, cursing the rain. He'd end up getting all soaked, his bike would be soaked,  the roads would be more dangerous... shit sucked. Why the hell did he even drive a motorcycle when it seemed to rain so god damn much? Because it beats walking, he reminded himself, and he had no other transportation options beyond public or walking.<br/><br/>He could have just gone home, but he was a creature of habit. Every week night, it was the same routine: He went to Simon's Bull, and took it upon himself to patrol the area, so to speak. It was such a trashy area, and the bar a dive, he imagined that vampires, in particular, would be drawn to the area...how easy it would be to pick up one of the drunken louts that were the regulars, go home with the promise of slaking their lust, and just drink them? Maybe they'd be left as he was, barely alive, but well...or maybe they'd wind up dead.<br/><br/>Besides, for people like him, the bar did have something of a reputation. Good place to meet up with others; he's done so a handful of times, but he wasn't someone that actively joined other Hunters. Most of them just wanted to kill, kill, kill...and with how their lives have been affected, he couldn't really blame them. But Leofwine was more curious, driven to learn about them. The martial arts training? That was just common sense. When you go off trying to play twenty questions with vampires, werewolves, ghosts, mermaids, or whatever else might be out there...well, it really, really paid to know how to keep yourself safe.  To say nothing of the fact that he may eventually find himself in a situation where he might have to protect innocents, though he hoped to god their'd never be a horror movie styled monster rampage.<br/><br/>As he parked outside, he made note of another motorcycle; strange. It was different than the few other motorcycles he occasionally saw around town, and a look at its license plate would confirm it: someone out of state.<br/><br/>He went into the bar, and his eyes traveled around, eyes warily traveling around, staring at some of the more suspicious and seedy regulars, but searching in particular for something. He noticed it after a few moments, as he took off his own helmet and gloves. A woman. Not a shock to catch one here (though nobody's trying to get into her pants? How odd). No, what drew him to this woman was the presence of a jacket, and a helmet; the kind bikers wear.<br/><br/>It was easy for him to put two and two together. She was likely to be the owner of the out-of-state motorcycle.<br/><br/>His steps eventually took him to the bar, and he sat down a stool over from her. Setting his gloves and helmet aside, he'd cast a glance towards her. "Nice bike you got out there."  He said almost off handedly, and waved to get the bartender's attention. "The usual, man." As said before, Leofwine was a creature of habit. He always had an ADM or two when he came in. Had a good taste to it, and not enough alcohol (for his constitution, at least) to impair his driving.