[url=http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/26693/posts/ooc?page=1#post-838692]Seto Nanzo[/url], lost in thought.
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As far as Seto's concerned, the Dark Hour was a godsend. It allowed an extra hour of each day to be spent with machinery when there weren't anything drastic happening or was 'requested' to be somewhere by others, namely his parents or close acquaintances. And that was exactly how he spent it after departing from the ceremony; came straight home and after a quick shower went through various mechanisms and methods. 

His place in Japan wasn't all that far away from the White Rose Hall; perhaps a twenty-minute ride. Admittedly it was his parents who had gotten this two-bed apartment complex on the third floor while he was still in Birmingham, but at the very least the prerequisites of an 'acceptable' room he had requested to his parents weren't ignored. the previous complex he was forced to stay in due to his parents renting the place without consulting him, it was needlessly huge with a spactacular view out the window wasted for a single person with absolutely zero interest outside the veranda. Not to mention housekeeping who kept putting away the screws and bolts somewhere obscure, taking his precious time away from enjoyment.

Seto was in the process of configuring his pocket watch when he realized that his phone was flashing with a light indicating there was a message. He chided himself for not paying more attention; if that was his parents asking him to come somewhere urgent, it could've been used as an excuse to drag him away from his safe shelter of his machinery. [i]That boy is escaping reality,[/i] as his father would put it. sometimes Seto wondered if in their minds, he was still the inexperienced boy he was before his own ceremony.

The message was indeed urgent, but thankfully it didn't seem to be from his parents. It was just as frown-worthy, however; obviously this was sent by a representative of the Society which meant he could not just ignore it, but to leave his place at this hour? ridiculous.

With a sigh, he left the half-opened pocket watch on the table and leaned back on his chair, closing his eyes. For some reason, a blurry image of Momo came up in his mind when he thought of the Society; was she also summoned to the Hall? he mused. Another sigh left his lips as he got up. He was the type who dressed nicely even while at home, with a formal beige shirt and dark pants in this case, so it only took him seconds to put on his holster, a vest and coat to be ready to head out to where he was needed. 

A reason he avoided night-travel, apart from his reluctance, was due to his vehicle. It was a second-hand Mercedes-Benz which, he had to admit, didn't tell him much of the car. It was quite hard to pin-point the exact model from the countless amounts of manual repair and replacement of parts, but the frame was no doubt that of the 300 SL Roadster. The engine was not... exactly the quietest in the suburb. He made a silent apology to anyone brutally woken up by the monstrous sound of the engine as he headed to the hall.