You were out with your ‘Friend’, Tord. Walking down the streets as Tord currently is somewhat hiding for any police cars. It was snowing, Tord was smoking a cigar as you noticed the couple of bruises and dried blood across his neck with the few cuts on his wrists. You didn’t comment. As you walked you noticed a lot of ‘wanted’ posters, of Tord. He noticed them to and only smirked, taking another hit of his cigar and frowned and spoke irritatedly

“What can I say…? I have a passion.”