Masque couldn't' sleep.  That wasn't exactly something new; insomnia had long been a reality in his life.  Even now living at the Mansion with a warm bed and knowing that he always had something to eat, insomnia was still something that reared its ugly head regularly.  It was hard going from a life of desperation to one of safety.  Or, perhaps it wasn't hard going from one kind of life to another, but it was still hard to accept that it was all true and that his good fortune wasn't going to suddenly disappear at a moment's notice.  So, he remained awake what seemed like every other night worrying and fretting, his mind refusing to rest.

Tonight was especially bad and it was for that reason Masque decided it was best just to leave and go for a walk.  He dressed warm; even though spring had arrived the nights were still cold.  As always he kept his pen and book with him just in case he should have to communicate with someone who was less than comfortable with the idea of his skin suddenly changing as words appeared upon calcite flesh.  He altered his skin to appear as close to human as he was able which was enough to pass a casual inspection, especially at night and with a hood from a hoodie upon his head.

The night was clear and cool and as Masque began to walk he began to calm down, reflecting upon where his life had gone.  Finally he had time to really dedicate to his passion which was his art.  He had also begun to dedicate time mastering the use of his power, which was slowly paying off.  Although imaging still tended to appear and disappear on their own when when he experienced strong emotions, when he was paying attention it was happening less often.  

Before heading back to the Mansion, Masque entered a small convenience store intending upon bringing back a small snack with him.  He walked in, inclining his head towards the teller before heading to the back to peruse the shelves and find something appealing.  It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes before he heard the commotion coming from the front of the store.  "Give me all the money in the till and no one has to get hurt!"  A masked man with a gun pointed at the teller stood at the front of the store and Masque froze in fear, silently preying not to get noticed.

The life of the vagabond might not seem very tantalizing at first, but it had its advantages. First of all, Chris could go wherever he wanted. If the situation in New York got out of control, he could always turn around and drive back the same way he came. He parked his van in different corners of New York every night, which felt much safer than to be stuck in the same place. Last not least, his expenses were low. No taxes, no rent, no food... That came with being able to hunt his own food, of course.

Even though the expenses were low, they weren't non-existing. Gas was the biggest one. His old van had many good sides - reliable, too ugly to risk getting stolen, lots of interior space - but it guzzled gas like a monster. His other big expense was fresh water. That was one aspect he really missed from his earlier stationary life; the ability to just jump into a shower whenever you needed it. He sighed as he drove up to the sidewalk next to the convenience store and turned of the engine with a low rumble.

He entered the store, picking up a shopping basket on his way. The florescent lamps where whirring overhead as he walked up to the water fridge, beginning to lift out the large plastic bottles at the bottom. He would need at least 3 gallons. Preferably more. He frowned at the price tag; water shouldn't be so pricy. You needed it to live. He had tried to refill his tanks with fresh water from the lakes and ponds around NY, but he had stopped because of all the disgusting things people threw into there. He might wear the same clothes for weeks before changing, but he'd be damned if he was gonna sleep in other people's trash.

As he dropped the last bottle into the basket he could hear a loud, hostile shout from the front of the store. Chris hunched over and glanced towards the commotion - a burglar seemed to have the teller at gunpoint. At least they were so concentrated on each other that they hadn't noticed Chris. Good. Chris slowly lifted the basket and hugged it to his chest, as he turned around and started to sneak towards the emergency exit. He kept his gaze at the front of the store, so when he turned his head and noticed the white figure right in front of him it came as quite a shock. The figure - there wasn't time to tell if it was a man or a woman - was completely white, and stood still as a statue. He/she wasn't that intimidating per se, but Chris had been totally unprepared. He flinched backwards with a yelp and the basket slid between his hands before crashing to the ground in a cacophony of noise. Heavy water bottles bounced and rolled over the linoleum floor. Chris grimaced and closed his eyes as if he, by not seeing the mess, could make it so it never happened. Perhaps the burglar hadn't heard... Ah, who was he kidding. A deaf person would probably have noticed it.