Welcome to Gaia! ::

He couldn't remember it now, but his first conversation with Joy - made in desperation and pleading - had been about how exhausting it was to go through life thinking that every responsibility in front of you was bait, and that the jaws were going to spring shut on you as soon as you thought you were doing what you were obligated to do.

Still.

The Order aura wasn't all that strong, as it drew near. Not any stronger than Prismatine's, actually, if he was able to judge those kinds of things, because twenty minutes ago Maus had begun his patrol in the same way he always did - soothing his nerves by running that medallion over his fingers, back and forth, in a fidget that at least had the benefit of causing people to underestimate him, even if it had done nothing for his nerves. Those, of course, came back in the way they always did when he saw a suspiciously-casual agent apparently unconcerned by the prospect of interruption. Maus wasn't underestimating anyone, especially not whoever might be lurking around nearby waiting for an opportune moment to intervene.

But obligation was stronger than nerves - it was one of his better qualities; one of few truly good ones - and so he did not outwardly hesitate as he stepped into the circle of streetlight, one hand in a pocket (bag dangling from his wrist) and the other occupied with a cigarette, which did about as much as the medallion had - nothing much. He eyed the civilian on the bench but did not immediately move to enact some kind of violence, just in case.

"Gonna be bad for both of us if that guy is dead and not just sleeping it off," he said, very pleasantly. But he must have seen the rise and fall of a deep-sleep breath, because he almost immediately continued: "Gonna tell me he's drunk?"