As the ferret boy for the coven, Tristan had a way of being in the right spot and the best time to learn something new. The Fishmarket was a bustling place for supernaturals; aquatic sorts in particular. He always got along with the darker ones with malignant natures. Abel told him they were kindred spirits, he didn't know how true it actually was. Once in a while he exchanged information with a Selkie for the promise of buying a case or two of market price fish.
With Abel breathing down his back to find out what he could about the creature who attacked Mel, he was making the rounds with the supernatural community. At least the ones who knew him. Tristan Collins was everyone's favorite bastard to hate. He was in the dictionary as the world's asshole because he really didn't give a damn about what people thought of him if it meant fulfilling his obligations.
To his coven.
Not some random fucking witch or supernatural contracted to work with them.
No. Tristan knew his loyalties and they included every member of the Haskel coven, not their extended contacts. Though he kept in touch with the less benevolent sort because well, Abel was right, he felt more comfortable working with them than the namby pambies the coven shielded.
Intent on tracking down the Selkie-Mother-Fucker who owed him one for buying last month without any decent exchange, he thought nothing of the man he bumped up against on his way through the market. His shoulder slammed into the man as he tried to weave around a loud mouthed woman trying to barter with the crabby ass lobster man in front of her. Tristan wished she could see what she was talking to, it'd have made his day. He was a sick sort that way, taking pleasure in those moments of inconvenience for others. Never for the coven though. He worked hard to make sure they knew up front about any and all on goings he got wind of. Part of his professional job went into that role.
"Yo, my bad," came the rough voice without any real substance to the apology as he collided with D'arthur. Day was looking up for anyone if Tristan didn't say something more along the lines of 'What the fuck man, watch where you're going.' Although the smell of coconut oil made Tristan give the guy a once over, a perplexed knit to his brows, "Man, anyone ever tell you coconut makes a shitty cologne?" He took a whiff, "Or with it. Damn, don't go near the water, you'll scare the fish away and the market will shut the fuck down." Yeah, Tristan was influenced by the magnetic personality, it muted his natural pissy personality. Just a touch.