<div class="floatleft">(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/36/c7/ee/36c7ee071cc6d56a6f390852faad369f.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Benson "Bence" Marconi<br/><strong>Alias:</strong>Red Ranger<br/><strong>Time/Date:</strong>October 1st, Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>BYOB Bar; right off campus<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Santiago, Open<strong>Mention:</strong>N/A<br/><hr/><br/><strong>There’s another one.</strong><br/><br/>Bence looked up to regard the guy who had entered the bar next despite his decision to ignore his Mobicyte’s existence. He didn’t know how to feel in the presence of another possible ranger. He grabbed up so chalk, cupped his cue, and started prepping it while he discreetly studied the man’s mannerisms at the bar. He had never seen this guy before.<br/><br/>Setting down the chalk, Bence continued his game finding it harder and harder to concentrate with his sight blurring. Again, he scowled, and then struck a solid sinking it along with the white ball. Straightening Bence sighed a little in exasperation. Whatever. He wasn’t trying to impress no one.<br/><br/><strong>You cannot ignore me forever. Goodness help your lovers if this is how you are with them.</strong><br/><br/>Bence paused  and stared at the man who approached him. The Mobicyte that spoke hadn't been his. What Little Brother had predicted was true.<br/><br/><strong>I didn’t predict it. I know. We can sense each other and so can you.</strong><br/><br/>Bence looked at Santiago as though he had been a murderer when really, Bence didn’t know if he wanted to be disturbed by another ranger. The whole reason he had chosen to drink at such a dump bar was to get away from them. Seeing Santiago just irritated him and he didn’t even know the guy!<br/><br/><strong>Trying to get a game?</strong><br/><br/>“Trying?” said Bence irritably.<br/><br/>He stepped over to his drink to finish it off, tipping his head back as a few thin blue streams escaped the corners of his mouth to roll down his neck into the collar of his T-shirt. He hadn’t been wearing anything special. There weren’t too many clothes he could wear when your body was practically exploding out of XL. He had found a white T-shirt with the eternal Nike check mark on it in red. Descending his legs were blue vintage jeans not exactly customized to his proportions for they gripped him in places that would make anyone grumpy. They emphasized his thighs, calves, and round backside. On his feet were khaki sandals. At least he was dressed somewhat comfy.<br/><br/>Bence set down his empty glass on the edge of the pool table and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His unfriendly frown softened a little when he focused through the man’s hood at his face. Was he in a fight?<br/><br/><strong>In the same one we were in.</strong><br/><br/>Hearing his Mobicyte say that he stopped caring. Bence hesitated at first but then muttered an invitation to Santiago, “You know how to play?”