Death rode a pale horse. Tobias rode shotgun in a Toyota Tacoma.

He had been to town earlier that day, taking care of some business he had. He unconciously rubbed his sore legs as he watched the scenery from beyond the passenger's side window slowly become less and less civilised. Tobias offered no words to his driver and his driver didn't expect them. Tobias had already slipped him a twenty and asked him to bring him out of town and that was the only conversation they needed to have. He had told the driver, 'I'll tell you when to stop and that'll be the end of it.'

And Tobias said "Stop," when they were far enough away from town, only near woods and and dirt roads, and the driver stopped. He took his backpack and the two paper bags that he picked up from town and hopped out, closing the door with a jerk of his shoulder. The driver popped it into reverse, turned around and left. "Toodles," Tobi said, not bothering to wave when each hand had a bag in it. He marched into the woods, only pausing for a moment to adjust his hoodie, namely, to pull his hood over his head and then slide his earbuds in and start blasting whatever he was last [url=https://youtu.be/Dmfy_5nAH_U]listening [/url]to. He adjusted his shoulders, trying to get the sweatjacket to fall on him in the right way, feeling a chill from the breeze. He was shirtless after today's little adventure, the shirt he [i]was[/i] wearing in tatters back in the town he left. On lower half he wore blue jeans and a pair of scuffed and faded dress shoes, a look that he generally determined to be 'good enough'.

The shirt thing wasn't a particularly big deal to him anyway. He tended to not wear a shirt when he was in his cabin or doing work. Why not show off his tattoos, even if he wasn't nearly as ripped as some of the Ares brats. Around his neck was a sling that extended to a sleeve that was still on his right arm, the sleeve extending down to his wrist, where it ended and the glove that was stitched to it began. He wore the little contraption as a way to make it [i]that[/i] much more difficult to accidentally kill someone in a drive by handshake.

Being Edward Scissor Hands without the gigantic blade fingers made life a bit more difficult. People weren't as aware that they should avoid touching his right hand, even if it looked like it just spent the past week in a fire and was now charcoal.

He kept his head low as he walked, watching the ground beneath his feet. He preferred not having to make eye contact with anyone that may try to initiate conversation and it was harder to trip on any roots if he watched his step closely enough. Last thing he needed was to break any of the bottles he was carrying. Every few steps the bottles in the two bags would clank against eachother and, when the wind died down, one could hear the sloshing liquid in his backpack that bounced with every stride. He walked a bit fasted as Thalia came into view, the walk being almost over giving him a touch more pep in his step.

"Hey, girl." he said as he passed by the pine tree, feeling the slight change in the air around him that was half-blood hill. There was always something so noticeable about going into a place mortals and monsters weren't allowed, though he'd be hard pressed to say what it was. Perhaps it was the air that tasted fresher. Perhaps it was a placebo effect.

Tobias made his way first to the big house where Dionysus was probably loafing about and only spent enough time there to put down his bags and fish out two bottles of 3 dollar wine, which he left at the big house's door for the good god. Dio tended to ignore Tobi's unannounced comings and goings as long as he left a little gift, even if it wasn't a particularly good gift.

He moved quickly to cabin eighteen, only pausing for a moment when the cabin came into view to admire his handywork. The windows were almost entirely blacked out now and only really needed a final coat of paint, which was exactly what Tobi had sitting in his backpack. Tobi never moved faster than a brisk walk when there was no need to run and as little as he wanted to even be seen by the other demigods, he had no reason to run.

He walked, keeping his head low, trying not to jostle the bags too much as he walked. Demi-gods tended to love alcohol and he had a lot of it. He reached his cabin with minimal contact with the outside world and kneed open the door, putting his bags down inside before shutting the door and sliding a chair over to block the door.

Tobias leaned down into his bag, pulled out a bottle of cheap wine and removed the bucket of black paint from his backpack. He had work to do.