(no subject)

Kazuhira Miller leans against a brick wall covered in the illegible remains of old wheatpaste posters, layered with a smattering of graffiti. With the exception of his bright yellow scarf, his uniform looks entirely at home among the coveralls and drab work clothes of the Industrial District's labor force. Workers representing various species wander past on the way to work sites and factories while others huddle together to eat lunch or enjoy a smoke break.

Miller looks down at his watch compulsively, only to be reminded once again that it stopped the moment he set foot in the Nexus. He sighs, pulls a Rite in the Rain notebook out of his breast pocket, and flips through pages covered in copious notes while he waits for a certain Mobian magus to appear.