He’s a lucky one.

Tristan spent most of his adolescent life learning to shoot a gun. That or hiding from normal people. They always mistake him for one of those…things. Well he was but he hadn’t fully turned. His humanity hand remained he just had some- extra battle scars.

As he was rummaging through a gas station he heard the the crunch of glass. Jolting up he growled slightly, aiming his gun straight for your face.

“Not another step…”