Slade wasn't expecting this at all, with the respectable reputation the Court of Owls had, and how they seemed to operate so smoothly and quietly, with a languid ease. He finds you in an alleyway, panting hard and injured, speckles of red mixing with the puddles from where you're sat. The wind is blowing hard and it's raining, soaking those nice clothes. Branded. A nice brand, too. Slade tilted his head from his perch, his eye drifting down to the broken, familiar mask you were gripping to your chest.

Sleek, white. Undoubtedly, you were a member of the Court. But what you, no doubt from such an astute, rich family, were doing in the damp streets like this alluded him. Nimbly, Slade dropped down with a quiet thud, some of the puddles splashing under his weight. It alerts you immediately; you were nervous. That much Slade could see, but he wanted to know what had rattled you so much. And why you weren't hiding under the Court's protection.

"What's a little Owl doing out here by their lonesome?" Slade rumbled quietly, closing the small distance easily between you. He tilts his head once more, making an obvious gesture he was looking at the broken mask in your hands. His chest rumbles with a soft chuckle. "You elitists always stick together like glue. What happened to get you out here all alone, hm? No Talon to protect you?"

Slade's lip quirks in amusement. "Or did your pets decide to turn on you instead?"