[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] Heading to Pike's Place - Seattle, Washington 
[b][color=00a99d]Interacting With:[/color][/b] N/A[/center][hr][hr]	As he headed towards Pike's Place, Scott was accustomed to the occasional odd glance he got. He carried enough to be from the heart of the South, but he was a native to this region all the same. He just happened to have a fine appreciation for his weapons. And if anyone ever stopped him, he tended to show them his open and concealed carry permits, followed by the middle finger. He didn't even have Peach, his shotgun, on him at the moment. Scott tossed his pack of cigarettes to one of Seattle's many homeless in his stroll, glancing up towards the sky with disapproval as the clouds seemed to part. 

	While the rest of the nation looked at Seattle's weather with horror, natives to the Greater Seattle area had learned not just to deal with the rain, but to thrive. His complexion didn't lend well towards sun exposure, anyways. Still, as he kept on walking down the gradually steepening sidewalk, his mind flickered back towards the girl in the bakery. Maybe she was already dead - and that was why the strange vision had ended. But it was different than the vision from the previous evening - he had interacted with her. He had managed to change things. 

	It made his head hurt to think of the implications. He wasn't the thoughtful type - he preferred to solve all issues with one simple, tried and true method. His guns.