It had certainly been a long day for the newly news reporter. Vincent, of course, had rightfully usurped that position by.. Taking matters into his own, now-bloody hands, but that was besides the point. It was nighttime, rather late—about 10 p.m. or so. As the man walked the streetlamp-illuminated sidewalks, mind drifted off to his next endeavor. His next step up in the entertainment industry.

He probably wasn't paying as much attention as he should've been to where he was walking, and so naturally, when someone shoulder-checked him as he walked past, he immediately halted his steps and turned to face their direction with a scowl.

"You know, you should really pay more attention to where you're walking." He said with feigned cordiality, through gritted teeth as he forced a pearly white grin to hide his otherwise clear irritation. Because of course it wasn't his fault, he was Vincent Whittman, goddammit! Nothing was his fault. He barely even knew that word. The individual who had bumped into him had also turned around only moments after it happened, already prepared to apologize.

Before they could get a word out, though, Vincent raised a hand to silence them. "Nup, nup—it's fine, save your breath." The man tutted rather dismissively, mismatched eyes observing the other with a quick, subtle once-over. Who was this? It wasn't often a nobody on the street really caught his eye, but there was just something about this clumsy fool.. Well, 'clumsy fool' as far as he was concerned.