he'd be watching you from the distance,, hatchet in hand, while the other rested in the holster. Sitting up in a tree where you were walking in the woods, Him being above you,, watching very carefully as you walked past the tree he was sat in. a slight smirk made its way to his lips under his mask, ticking is what you heard some behind you,, Before the man that was watching you had came down the tree. Coming face to face with you, leaning down. his masked face inches from yours.