The walk itself? Straight forward, with little interruption or difficulty as the worst that came with the trip was waiting for all the bastards with the cars to get over themselves and their rush. There were crosswalks for a reason so people could, surprise-surprise, cross the street without fear of a car; really just the fear of the drivers who, for one reason or another, were hellbent on going to home to see their screaming, ungrateful brats and their disinterested spouse. That said, it had become a game for Mercer wherein he'd do his best to time the lights and the crossings. Was it sad that he had made this trip so many times that he knew the general length of time each light lasted? Probably, or that's what he thought.

The first step was always the scariest, as even the red glow of the lights weren't always a foolproof deterrent. Mercer didn't exactly care though - it wouldn't be the first time a car had hit him. He remembered that event pretty vividly, especially since it was laughable now; oh how everything made more sense when he met the feline within face to face - that brief moment of clarity and perfect control otherwise lost in a sea of animalistic predation.

That's why as he stood there on the sidewalk, watching, timing, he paused - the people in beside him taking their first step; there went what he knew was coming. Just from the corner of his eye he saw it; the van with a place to be. It blew past him - all of them - and barged through the red light without much warning. Almost casually, arms crossed, he just let people react as they did; most uttering curses, some having froze in place, others stepping back. Now? That was when Mercer proceeded across, as if nothing ever happened with just one tan boot in front of the other, glancing back at the van as it carried on down the street; an off forest green, early 2000's, hadn't been washed, and with a left tail light cracked.

"Not a surprise." Mercer muttered as he reached the other end, hands in his pockets as he fumbled about with his wallet, flipping through his various work credentials until he got to the sleeve containing his cash. This was the only reason he carried it with him - cash in this part of town was dumb otherwise. It's not like he'd get robbed - just the thought of someone trying to do so made him laugh internally - but at the same time, someone might try; it was a sort of known issue with this area, the kind that was just an obvious unspoken rule.

Giving his fingers a slight lick, wetting them to draw the bills out, he slid them into the other pocket and the wallet itself back as he paused again at another cross; the side street next to him filled with a few idling motorists. [i]These guys will be here for a while,[/i] Mercer mused in thought, shooting a blue eyed glance over to the other side where he discovered no turning traffic were headed this way. Thus he took the calculated risk and crossed over, again relying on what he readily knew about the drivers here. No harm came of the little gamble and in a mere moment he was at the door where he took a quick accountability of the world around him; just an idea where he'd be off to after nightfall as well as those who happened to be around at the present moment.

He wasn't paranoid, but Mercer had that instinct in him to do his best to size up anyone and anything he could; he rationalized it as the big cat debating on if it thought it could take them or would be better off vanishing into the oncoming night if need be. To date, it hadn't run into anything that he recalled that it didn't think it could take. He was a werepanther after all - what possibly could be much bigger or scarier than himself? Sure Mercer considered that there were other, worse things out there; doubted to hell and back he'd meet one, let alone in this pit that was part of Clear Springs.

Catching a glance of a man, a waiter really, leaving a restaurant only to start up a cigarette and head this way - eyes and focus briefly locked on a phone - Mercer didn't immediately recognize anyone else going this way. In fact, most people were going into the other restaurants on the street, including the one the man with the cropped brown hair and cigarette had just left. 

[i]That must be nice; family meals and all the like.[/i] Mercer chuckled to himself at the notion of actually having a meal out; a bar and a few beers was a real "treat". It served only to satiate, to a tiny, tiny extent the big cat inside, which had this ever present, lurking need to wander about and seemingly check in on places it was familiar with and take part in most anything it really pleased.

Feeling the night drawing closer as the sun drifted loser towards setting, Mercer leaned his shoulder into the door only to be assaulted by the musical presence of a theremin. What really caught Mercer's attention after that audible surprise was the younger woman in the corner in a sizable hoodie that absolutely failed to match the only mildly brisk outdoors or the rest of the bar's patrons; she was the first thing out of the norm his eyes caught and something about her just rubbed the panther's fur the wrong way - just inexplicably. Carrying on, letting the door shut behind him, Mercer let the rest of the world around him just sink in.

Most were the usuals - those he'd seen before and didn't get a weird feeling about. The goth chick? That was... different. Something about her made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand a bit on end, which didn't sit well; he chalked that up to the fact she was, for lack of better words, in [i]his[/i] favored spot. The man in the red and blue checkered shirt with the wide brimmed hat and tenderly maintained old leather boots didn't fit either; same for the beers he was spending he and his cohort's money on. They weren't the usual cheap stuff most patrons ordered; even the black drenched college student was drinking your run of the mill Coors Light.

[i]"What the fuck?"[/i] Mercer uttered under his breath as his head turned to at last confront the source of the theremin. [i]"Amish Tech Support?"[/i] Visibly shaking his head after reading, Mercer approached his second favorite spot; this irked that feline within to no end. Not only was he between the two other parties, but that little punk had his spot; yes, Mercer rationalized it was stupid for the cat to expect her to somehow know that, but at the same time she just rubbed his fur every wrong way she seemed she could - like it was purposeful almost. 

Gritting his teeth a bit, doing his best to shake off the minor annoyances, he awaited the bartender, who - without a word - took the money Mercer produced from his pocket and delivered him a Coors as well. Turning about a bit on the stool, Mercer with a sense of casual confidence given that this was his prowl and that they were new enough to it, began his inquiry to both the two men closest to him.

"Color me curious," Mercer began, offering a pause as he took a drink from the bottle before setting it down behind him, his eyes shifting from the band to the two at the bar itself, "Are you familiar with these guys?" He motioned toward the band as they continued their performance with a nod, "I can't say I've ever heard of, let alone seen them here before."