Saryn | Kane
He peered into the sewer from his perch at the entrance point. He'd like to say that he was doing some preliminary observation, but in truth he was pointedly ignoring the strange cat attempting to make itself comfortable in his scarf. More than once he'd had to grab at the fabric so the shifting weight didn't strangle him. Sure, he could've shooed the cat off or some such, but had already wasted an hour attempting to do so. Somehow it didn't seem right to kill it over such a trivial matter as attachment.
In the end then, Saryn had resigned himself to tolerating the cat's presence. He simply waited until it had finally settled itself to its satisfaction before slipping quietly into the gloomy murk.
As soon as the full stench of the place hit his nostrils, he slapped his filter mask on. He'd been told the fumes were safe enough without a mask, though really, he had enough poison resistance that it hardly mattered anyway. In the end though, why should he deal with the smell when he always has a perfectly good filtration system on hand?