[hr][hr][h1][b][i][center][color=00a99d]Scott Rydzynski[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h1][center][img]http://78.media.tumblr.com/254eb4eaebfa60d7088b6e028792731b/tumblr_oaef08DCHX1sj8jevo2_r2_500.gif[/img][hr][b][color=00a99d]Location:[/color][/b] Jade's Place - Seattle, Washington 
[b][color=00a99d]Interacting With:[/color][/b] [url=https://s33.postimg.org/4xorc4ftr/giphy.gif]Jade Cornish[/url][/center][hr][hr]	Scott awoke to the garbled noise of the radio, just slightly out of tune for the station. Moving his hand around in the dark, he tried slamming his hand against it to turn it off. Instead, he seemed to have only increased the volume. The woman next to him in bed was proving to be no help, as the private investigator was out like a light. Scott chuckled slightly, reminiscing on some of the adult activities they had participated in the night before. His smile faded when his dream came back to him vividly. He had seen some shit in his career, both as a merc for hire and as a Green Beret, but the images from his dream sent a shiver down his spine. 

	"If you're getting up, make me some coffee," Jade requested, turning over. "Irish - so Irish you think it's St. Patty's day."

	[color=00a99d]"Alright, princess,"[/color] Scott teased, but his heart wasn't in it. There was no question of him sharing his dream with her - it was a one night stand, nothing more. He had met her at some bar the night before, the two of them swapping stories about the shit they'd seen - all of the death and pain they'd witnessed. And of course, they'd been drunk. He was hardly surprised to find himself in an unfamiliar apartment. It wasn't too rare for him to wake up with a woman next to him - but never the same person twice. 

	"Fuck you," Jade grumbled. "You bloody Americans are all the same."

	Scott rolled his eyes, locating his clothing on the floor. Quickly getting dressed, he let himself out of the bedroom and went towards the kitchen. A few bottles of booze were sitting on the counter and he raised a bit of an eyebrow. Irish coffee must have been a favorite of Jade's. It'd explain her alcoholism. Getting the coffee pot ready, he glanced at the television set displayed poorly in the living room. It had been left onto the news and Scott's eyes widened, recognizing the face of the woman he had seen die in his dream. 

	[color=00a99d]"Son of a bitch..."[/color] Scott grumbled. He wasn't a hero, not by any means. But apparently, it wasn't just things he could move with his mind - he was a goddamn prophet or something similar. He slammed his fist against the counter in rage. He didn't sign up for this. He didn't ask for this power - as neat and useful as it tended to be. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Scott quickly left Jade's seventh story apartment and made a beeline for the staircase, without even leaving a note.  He needed to find out more about that murder and he knew just the person to talk to - someone who just so happened to owe him an apology and a favor. He'd be collecting both.