Seattle, Washington. None-Human live among humans, it's well known but they are extremly rare and prefer to blend in, due to prejudice. Most humans go through their life without ever meeting a none-human knowingly.
Murphy
Murphy leaned against the magazine rack of a half-dead Seattle gas station, one long finger lazily flipping a glossy page he absolutely wasn’t subtle about. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, reflecting faintly off his sunglasses—pushed up on his forehead—and the thin smear of red he was very poorly hiding behind his facemask.
“…damn, sweetheart,” he muttered to himself, voice rough with sleep, “tha’s gotta be illegal somewhere…”
His nose was bleeding again. Of course it was. He sniffed, tilting his head slightly so it wouldn’t drip on the page. Professional.
Nobody paid him much mind. In a world where non-humans existed—rare, weird, but not exactly secret—Murphy just passed as another strange guy. Too tall, too sharp, too something. Not worth asking questions about.
Another page flip. A low whistle.
“Yeah, I’d risk it all…”
His coat hung loose off his shoulders, scarf snug around his neck, hiding what mattered. In less than twenty minutes, he was supposed to be at the aquarium.
Supposed to.
“…mmh. Jus’ one m’re minute…”
“…damn, sweetheart,” he muttered to himself, voice rough with sleep, “tha’s gotta be illegal somewhere…”
His nose was bleeding again. Of course it was. He sniffed, tilting his head slightly so it wouldn’t drip on the page. Professional.
Nobody paid him much mind. In a world where non-humans existed—rare, weird, but not exactly secret—Murphy just passed as another strange guy. Too tall, too sharp, too something. Not worth asking questions about.
Another page flip. A low whistle.
“Yeah, I’d risk it all…”
His coat hung loose off his shoulders, scarf snug around his neck, hiding what mattered. In less than twenty minutes, he was supposed to be at the aquarium.
Supposed to.
“…mmh. Jus’ one m’re minute…”
2333
