[hr][hr][h1][b][i][center][color=00a99d]Scott Rydzynski[/color][/center][/i][/b][/h1][center][img]https://78.media.tumblr.com/66ca263a174d20e9b4de884f84c9ee25/tumblr_ntu7xcs6s61qhbroxo2_500.gif[/img][hr][b][color=00a99d]Location:[/color][/b] A Pastry Shop - Seattle, Washington ----> A Bar
[b][color=00a99d]Interacting With:[/color][/b] Jace, Janelle, and Cynthia[/center][hr][hr]	[color=00a99d]"Great, I'm going to go shortstack,"[/color] he said with a grin, getting up from the table. He threw down a few dollars to cover the price of his coffee and as bizarrely as he came into their lives, he was (for the moment) gone again. Scott got a bit of a skip to his step as he went down the road, contemplating even tripping a nerdy kid he saw with his telekinesis, but something told him to hold back. He contemplated going back to his house, but it'd be a few hours still until his next job would kick up. He shrugged to himself and changed directions, heading for the seediest bar he knew. 

	Once inside, Scott nodded at the regulars - most of them were fellow mercs like him - and took a seat at the bar. He couldn't help but check the dead pool up at the top with a chuckle. There had been a bunch of money bet on him, ever since he had gotten sick, and he couldn't help but sometimes consider faking his death, just in order to get some of the winnings himself. It wouldn't be too hard to arrange someone to place the bet for him.