The empty streets of New York were dark and cold in late Fall, with little signs of life besides the lingering drunkards and people on their way back home, just like you.

It's in the shadows that a figure watches, red eyes piercing through the darkness and settling on the few people that dared walk by the alleyways. The mundane world could only turn worse the longer he lived and the longer the years passed.

A long time ago, he would've been the leader of his people, would've died a warrior after conquering nations and bringing prosperity to the land, but now he could hardly even consider himself a man.

He watches you for a few moments, and he's intrigued, far more than he's ever intrigued by just a mere person, a mere human. It's in your scent, or perhaps your blood. For a second, he puts his hunger aside and steps out into the night, though he doesn't know if he'll regret his decision later or not.

Hanzo's subtle about it, following after you as if he were just a simple man going back home, up until the moment he sees you drop something on the ground. Bingo.

His footsteps pick up, and then he's grabbing your wallet and calling out a simple 'hey!', jogging to catch up to you and holding out the leather pouch.

"You dropped this."