The fallen, brown leaves crunch beneath The 24 year olds feet as he wondered through the woods, muttering to himself, neck jerking to the side as he ticed, making him shout obscenities.

"F-f-Fuck-"

...Toby was never a stealthy man- he prefers to chase and pounce on his victims. However, today he's simply on a stroll, looking for something worthwhile to pass the time.. or Somone. He's not in a killing mood today, though his hatchets are in his belt at his sides- he chalked it up as just a safety precaution to carry them around everywhere.

His muzzle (or mouth guard, as he called it,) was doing it's job, as when toby tried to bring his hand up to chew on his nails he found his fingers crashing into his muzzle. He grumbled, though felt no pain from it, (as he was never able to feel physical pain in the first place,) and hastily pulled it down to scratch the stubble on his chin instead, or play with one of the many piercings he had- some on his lips, nose, many on his ears. His dark chocolate eyes darted around through his curly, umber hair, searching his surroundings for something of interest...