You have started to think of Los Diablos as not just the place you live but your home. Your hunting ground.
Just a year ago, you made a good effort to be as nondescript as you possibly could. To blend in, be bland, just a face among many. It didn't stop Ortega from recognizing you, and now that you have everything you need for your new life as Garrett Helton X you are less constrained by necessity. These days your sense of style could be described as…
You've chosen to stick with your usual streetwear but with a grungy twist. Distressed jeans, flannel, and hoodies will serve you well.
Nobody wants to mess with you anymore.
While you were at it, you also decided to…
Hiding in plain sight doesn't always mean being nondescript, and some forms of jewelry are more permanent than others. What hides under your clothes is nobody's business, but for visible jewelry you have…
Oh no!
The rain catches you by surprise, a sudden downpour during your walk that clears the streets around you, soaking hair and clothes both. Serves you right for letting your thoughts drift. At least, looking like a drenched cat won't ruin your style that much.
Despite your discomfort, you don't bother ducking into a store. Getting drenched like this will give you a good excuse to drop by to see the Rangers. You might as well take advantage of it while you're in the neighborhood. That the rain caught you by surprise bothers you, but then again, you rarely watch the skies. Perhaps you should, but you've spent too much time with your eyes fixed on the pavement, shoulders hunched to make your height less apparent. You don't need to see people to avoid them, and looking at their faces always makes you feel vaguely uneasy despite your training.
It's safer this way. If you don't intrude, they won't either. Watching. Being watched.
The rain helps with that; people hurry, heading to their destinations as fast as they can. You try to match the annoyance you can see on their faces as you escape into the foyer of the Rangers' headquarters, dripping wet.
You feel miserable but make sure to ignore the discomfort of wet clothes sticking to your form. You hate the sensation; the clinging fabrics make you more aware of your body. Your skin. Your smell. You want to scratch your arms, but instead, you school yourself into your usual blank face. It wouldn't do to encourage Ortega to get worried about you.
Concern or guilt? You're not even sure he knows for sure.
"Can I help you?" The receptionist's voice is pleasant but loud enough that you can't ignore her.