Across a small apartment building, a mouth to a rocky forest, the sound of a tree falling over shook the nearby earth with a loud thud. Drake was dressed in his casual attire with his brown cowl to help conceal him from the chilly Maine breeze. With his monster of an axe in his grip he had already severed a few trees, and had begun to make them into dividable pieces. It was around this time that Drake would collect fire wood for the coming frigid days of winter. This also gave him some additional 'training' as he thought, or at least would make the excuse of, mindlessly swinging his axe and making cheesy poses and moves from some poor imitation of an action movie that any on looker would think anything but cool or viable moves. 
After dismembering a few logs it dawned upon him that he was supposed to be at work today. Cursing to himself he would run out of the woods, deciding that he'd continue after wards, and would sprint back by his apartment and across more of the road. Though he didn't have a mode of transportation he didn't live too far from the old building. Arriving after about 30 minutes of sprinting he would collapse on the sidewalk out of breathe.