It is about 60F(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Maple and Blackstone

(Your target a young first-time donor has had a severe reaction to a vampire’s bite, and the establishment’s owner is more concerned about keeping things quiet than getting medical help. The characters must decide whether to intervene, call authorities, or use the situation to their advantage.)

Avalon is, presumably, vibing at the entrance to his own home. Unfortunately for the peace of the day, some screaming rings out from across the street at Merchant’s Square. A small farmer’s market has people scattering in all directions, and someone screams ‘my cabbages!’ as a stall is turned over entirely. Someone else shouts to ‘call 911’. It seems like something that might be worth investigating.

Avalon fiddles with his phone, indeed by the entrance of his house, trying to operate from his phone his email, and not doing all too well despite how easy the task is, his lack of tech knowledge and almost unnatural negative skill with it costing him a price. Groaning and complaining to himself, his gaze lifts towards the door as he starts hearing some screams.

Sighing and lifting his gaze, the man mutters “What now?” before, since he’s lacking any windows over here, he opens the door to try and take a peek to the nearby market, tilting his head towards the street without actually coming out of the house

Avalon can see someone passed out on the ground looking remarkably pale – blood dripping from pinpricks in the neck, a woman is standing over the body with an expression of panic – it seems this is the one who is screaming to call 911. A very sloppy vampire feeding, it seems.

Avalon stares at the scene for a good couple seconds, though he doesn’t seem to have the reaction to call himself to the emergencies line, instead, he pokes his head out of the house a bit further, glancing around the front facade to ensure everything is still in form, hoping not to find any windows or walls busted, likely because of similar happenings in the past, muttering to himself “It’s a wooden house, I doubt a vampire wants to enter in here…” And yet he’s checking while ignoring the victim, almost like it’s just another day in New Haven “Maybe if I leave some splinters laying around I can make it even more of a dissuasion…”

By virtue of deciding not to get involved, Avalon is rewarded with the dual nature of living on a New Haven property – rent is really cheap when people die across the street on occasion. But the screaming does get tiresome. After twenty minutes or so – as much an indictment of public funding as it is the police’s desire to never get involved in trying to police the supernatural – a meatwagon shows up to cart off the unfortunate, who has expired on the floor by the time anyone bothers to arrive.

And during that time, all that Avalon has likely done is double check over and over again that he has no vampires breaching into his house from any angles, once more, probably due to prior experience. Once the inspecting is done on the outside, he returns towards the entrance, another glance spared towards the market as the clean up crew appears, if they can be called that, watching as the corpse is disposed off before he shrugs his shoulders slightly, wondering to himself in a mutter “That market is always trouble… I wonder if any society would get back at me if I just… Erased it…” The doubt and pondering comes to a sustained glance, not on the remains of what might happened but on the area itself, for at least a good minute or two before he adds “At least that way this house would be silent…”