Corrupted Super Sailor Typhon's way of patrol was a bit of a lazyman's approach. He wasn't one to roam about the city looking for trouble - no, he let trouble find him. He'd perch up on a rooftop in a downtown area of the city with a lot of nightlife, waiting for any menacing Order signatures to flare about for him to rein some terror onto. It was a nice style of patrol, really, especially since it gave him some chill time on the roof to smoke.
Already halfway burned through his second cigarette on the roof the club, Typhon felt a power signature approaching - but not Order. No, Chaos. The bluenette boy grinned as he turned to see the fellow agent. He looked familiar, especially...
that a**. Oh, he remembered that a**.
"What's up man?" Typhon greeted, his eyes peering around the Captain to get a look at his a**. And in leather pants? "You got a name and registration for that a** of yours? Cause, damn boy."
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