A strange sensation of cold washed over Phobetor's body despite his warm clothing. Sensing magic, he whirled around, but saw nothing. A few seconds into narrowing his eyes at the two other occupants on the bus, he became aware of a slight throbbing sensation on his wrist, as if it were being slightly squeezed. He yanked off his glove and found a mark on his skin. Shaped like a heron sitting on a lake, the symbol pulsed with a soft orange glow. Unnerved, Phobetor held his other palm over the tag and twiddled his fingers, probing it with shadow magic.

As such, he was totally unaware of Andrew, only subconsciously moving out of the isle to let him pass. When Ashil came along, however, the two actually collided. His focus broken, Phobetor readied a nasty remark but was beaten to the punch. The God of Nightmares almost recoiled, moving aside to allow Ashil to continue on his egotistical way. After a moment of sputtering, he replied under his breath with [i]“Manducare puppe, caput faex”[/i] and sat down. He pulled his glove back on irritably, deciding to leave the mark alone for now.

By laying his fingers on the fabric of the seat, he channeled shadow magic through it. While all this did physically to the chair was turn it a velvety black, he felt far more comfortable in his element. If he was going to be spending time on this bus, it wouldn't hurt to have a little territory on his side.