Vigil slightly cringes under the mask as he catches a whiff of the smoke.
"I'm Vigil. And no, the mask isn't for protection or concealment of injuries."
"More of a job description, really. But I think I should be asking who YOU are."
A drag of a cigarette. . . Smoke rolling off his lips upon uttering his next words.
"After all, I don't hide my scars with a ballistic mask."
Don't mind him, he's just practicing his knife throws.
. . . . . On a piece of paper taped to a pole with a crudely sketched-out picture of Richtofen on it.