[center][h2]Mysterious Uncle[/h2][/center]
As the Sun began to dip below the horizon, dying the city crimson, a man walked the streets of Fuyuki.

"Damn it, she knows I'm trash with directions."

To say that the man stood out amidst the backdrop would be an understatement. His European ancestry was in stark contrast to the general populace, gray hair and lines along his face enough to cast him as one in his mid or late fifties. 

Most striking, though, was an instrument case he had gripped in his right hand as he rolled it along the streets with some difficulty, one that seemed to be for a double bass, albeit a fair bit larger than one would expect even then. In his left hand was a map of Fuyuki, turned at an odd angle as he attempted to make sense of it. 

"English? Anyone here speak English?" He called out in the language in question, sighing at the lack of response the passerby gave him. "...Italian? French? German? Anything [i]civilized[/i]?" He let out an exasperated groan at his utter failure to get the attention of even a single civilian, at least in a positive way. "You'd think I'd have learned not to trust ■■■■■ about languages after last time, but apparently not."

Rolling his eyes to himself, the man continued his aimless trek for his destination, or at least someone who knew a [i]real[/i] language.

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[center][h1]Day One, Phase Three[/h1][/center]