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[b][code]The Reid Farmhouse - Mason Square[/code][/b]
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Things had happened fast when they'd hit the Cafe, almost a blur. Nate had come along for the ride in Claire's truck, ostensibly to help out the others... somehow? It wasn't like going Casper the not-so-dead-but-not-particularly-friendly ghost on Reese would have really done much good, would it? He didn't know - he was still figuring this out, one step at a time.

One little piece of action he [i]had[/i] seen was Reese going full-hulkmode, practically leaping into the air like he was only halfway tethered to the laws of gravity and landing on an adjacent rooftop. Claire, of all people, had responded to this retreat by shouting at the mass-murderer for being a coward, all-too-comfortable with that crimson hue that surrounded her frame. If Reese had thought 'fuck it', turned around and gone straight for her? He figured she'd have had less of a hard time dealing with it than the other, but still... [i]dumb idea.[/i]

Nate, for one had not complained. When he'd climbed out of that truck cab, he'd found their group had grown just a little with a few faces he didn't quite recognise. And, having took off straight after the God-Kid had showed up, Penny now looked like she'd run a mile on a train track and was nursing a cigarette. She too seemed pissed off about the situation, but at least in her case she [i]had[/i] gone up against Reese with her tampon-shooting abstraction and maybe part of that was the reason why the guy bugged out. 

Figured this was a fight he couldn't win? 

It didn't matter - they were, more or less, alive - particularly [i]himself.[/i] Claire began to explain the situation to the new faces, a circumstance where if Nate hadn't seen for himself with his own eyes would've called it out as bullshit. Soon enough, more of them turned out to be the 'Awakened' that the God-Kid and the dream had spoken about, complete with the wierd brands. It reminded Nate of his own awkward situation and how Viv and Quent had yet to find it and, now that he knew this, never would.

Britney had quickly takenthe reigns again, steering their group down towards a lead she'd mentioned before - this John Reid guy, the one who'd [i]written[/i] a diary about the whole situation which, somehow, conveniently explained most of it for them. Bullshit in any other situation, but witnessing the day's events alone had eaten away at his skepticism on such a matter. This time, they'd be going to the guy's farmhouse - wasn't that criminal tresspass? Not to mention a whole slew of other things that could potentially get them into shit - breaking and entering, possession of a deadly weapon (what else would you call something that could shoot out tampons at a deadly speed) and so forth. Quent would've [i]really[/i] loved him for that.

Yet all the same, Nate went along with it. First, he dropped by his home, grabbed a quick change of clothes and picked up a few other things that would probably come in handy (his multi-tool included) and set off for the Farmhouse on-foot, having no car, bike or easy pickup option to hitchhike around on.

Getting onto the property was easy enough - their already-assembled group had found that the gate hadn't been locked and, stepping onto the property, found the place to be almost a cliche in its own right, down to the enormous red barn or the pristine-white coat of paint across the planks that formed the exterior of the house. All this space... Justin had made a pretty good point -  there were no crops, no animals - not even that lingering smell of shit you'd sometimes get out in the open driving past cattle farms. 

To the topic at hand... Nate was more than content to go with the flow and walk alongside whoever needed him. And, at least Britney hadn't outright said 'let's split up and look for clues' - that [i]would[/i] have been inviting trouble, one way or another. No, it was Billy's movie-making suggestion that finally elicited a brief chuckle from him and prompted him to break the silence.

"I mean hey, if you're looking for a ghost..." Nate took a step forward, the tip of his shoe sinking into the softened mud. He subtly gestured to himself with a tilted nod at that same shoe.