Russell walks along a lonely road, the lights of downtown Sacramento at his back, heading west. "The Barrens" of Sac appeared to be mostly agricultural land, which at least meant fewer buildings to search.
He feigns checking his phone to look inconspicuous. It's a cheap prepaid number available over the counter nearly anywhere nowadays, but at least he's figured out how to mute it and kill the backlight. The show was for potential prying eyes that might be lingering in the windows; the list of names, Kindred who had permission to be in the Barrens, had been transferred to a small card in his pocket. A card small enough to be destroyed before it could be seen by the wrong eyes. Provided he was forced into the situation, a few excuses hovered in the back of his mind to deflect authorities with.
"The newspaper said one of these properties was hiring a night watchman... I'm sure it was around here somewhere? Man, why didn't I bring that damn thing with me?"
He smiles a bit, thinking himself rather clever, as he slips the phone back into a change pocket, where it won't flop around. He is dressed for mobility and utility, a short sleeved Under Armour shirt and zip off cargo pants over soft-soled paratrooper boots. The zippers are open a few inches on the outside of his legs, the opening of each hovering over the butts of a pair of boot knives.
While his stride is the slow, graceful stalk of a predator, he isn't truly attempting to go unnoticed yet. Not until he gets a bit further away from the city.
Knives
OOC