"Ugh, and who the hell are you? The tall fluffy white-haired male scoffed out his question, while he sat on the edge of a tall building admiring the night sky of New York City. A Russian SVD Sniper propped up against the concrete ledge, his legs dangling over the building while his blistered fingers flicked off the bud of his burning cigarette. Wyatt had never been a fan of working with others, especially other assassins. He found them all snobby and annoying. He had always told his boss to never assign him partners, not that he listened anyways. But he was still he slightly confused on who you were. If you were supposed to be his partner, then he might just get rid of you. Unless of course you are proven useful.

He took a drag of his cigarette blowing the smoke out before he titled his head looking over his shoulder a bit getting a glimpse of you...