Masilatabhrata stepped out into the morning air, leaving the dull apartment complex behind. He would need to find a new building to feed from soon - many of the tenants had suspicions of a demon. Some outright knew what was going on, and the ethereal being couldn't get past the charms they had put up. Though, it wasn't rocket science to figure out what was happening, as most people who didn't know the alp knew of him.

Another thing to add to his to-do list: Find and have a nice talk with whoever's selling these charms. Most of the areas on Earth had a lot more rules and regulations than his homeland, and he had learned to think of them as a game. Two hundred years ago, he would easily lose the game in a New Orleans back alley. But now his dice were loaded and he could make the law work for him.

Coming out of his thoughts, Masilalt watched humans as they walked past him. It was easy to tell the tourists apart, and he always took note to remember their face. He hated them, considering they weren't exactly at the town for the scenery. However, a lot of his money did come from tourists and selling them charms and teas, so they weren't entirely a waste. The cafe may have had some good coffee, but the llama couldn't make tea the way he could. A few hundred years in the practice might have given him a bit of an advantage. 

The demon glanced up at the sky. He had a few orders, but didn't start his work until noon. He needed various herbs for them that he didn't have, and would have to dry more. He shook his head. He always procrastinated on getting new spices, and was always put in this position. Rounding a corner, he walked into an open air market. The cold morning meant not a lot of others were there, which he was always grateful for. Places like this weren't always open as late as he would like, and the few souls dragging themselves around was a reprieve from the crowd normally found.