Having spent the better part of his "weekend" - a loose term for someone with his schedule - working, the crispness of the oncoming night air was a warm welcome to his face despite its subtle chill; it meant a few days more or less to himself, without the presence of others... unless he desired company, of course. It wasn't like his work constantly surrounded or barraged him, on the contrary, but he did attempt to abide by the tasks he was given, even if he was entirely aware of their pointlessness. Switch the monitors to this location, patrol on foot this fence line, take note of leaving vehicles - if any. All simple enough? Absolutely, but it distracted from what he enjoyed - the nighttime air and the luxury of being able to prowl about, coming and going as he wished.

Sure, there were times where he disregarded everything, instead removing his uniform and going for a wander after having switch the cameras over, but those were more the exception than the rule.

Tonight?

Tonight was that opportunity to prowl about, but it was much too early in the evening; the sun having not even coming close to drawing to twilight. Mercer would need a place to waste away a couple of hours; a bar not far from his apartment was one of his favorite haunts. He frequented the locale enough to know that it was just a few block away - able to nearly walk there, eyes closed at this point - and that they tolerated his presence so long as he bought a few of anything. Luckily, for a man who didn't hold much of paycheck, beer was cheap enough to make this a recurring adventure rather than a special occasion.

God knows what Mercer would find himself into if he didn't have that time to adjust before letting the cat out. He reasoned, to himself as he closed the door behind him, sliding the aging iron lock shut and pocketing the key, that he'd end up dead; that almost tactile uneasiness in the back of his head that wanted free would ensure that. It wasn't just something he could let run rampant - at least not if he wanted to live a couple of more years beyond now. Mercer might not have been the smartest of guys around, but he wasn't stupid enough to think the pantherine side of him wasn't as big of a risk as it was a reward.

Hurrying down the stairs, loose boots sliding a bit with each step, he paused only to get his bearings and turn toward his goal while drawing a deep breath.

The sad part about this whole adventure was that he, himself - the man, not the beast - didn't get to enjoy it as much as he should be able to. Alcohol? Not only was any buzz he managed brief, if he some how managed to get there at all, but the liquid poison just dispersed to little effect; all too brief. That was a fair enough trade, reasonable sure, but it would be nice to once in a while not need struggle to even get slightly tipsy; the cat, all the while Mercer imagined, probably laughed at him. It had always been a love-hate and back again relationship with both sides of himself.

There were perks to both, like right now.

He'd head down to his typical prowl, get a few drinks, listen to the people ramble and watch a bit of television; the latter being a commodity he didn't bother owning. Later on he'd... well, go to his typical prowl? It was difficult to say where each excursion would take him - it was more an instinct thing and less a thought through effort. At least he was smart enough as some terrible amalgamation of man and leopard to keep out of sight and out of mind.

There were a few close calls before - some, too close for comfort.

Hopefully - and Mercer truly meant it - hopefully tonight would be a lot more... quiet? No guarantees of any sort he knew would be possible; it wasn't like one could really control this sort of thing, could they? If it could be done, Mercer certainly hadn't figured that trick out yet, if he ever could.

For now, he busied his mind and his step with the thought of a drink; the cat he'd deal with later, once things got more quiet. Until then, he'd keep himself out of trouble and do the best to convince that lurking predator under the skin that maybe it wasn't such a good night to go out and do much more than stalk around.

Shaking his head and wishing himself good luck on that effort, Mercer rounded the corner - closer yet to the bar.