[He's been waiting for this. Not entirely because of stitches or sore muscles, but because there is a certain joy in letting things linger - letting people be aware that something is coming for them and it's just a matter of when and where. Which tonight, to the canvas of a blacklit sky, is seems just right. With nobody around to interrupt, he hopes for a little time for a one on one conversation with the dear Dr. Reid.
He lets himself be seen from the distance of a few feet away, stepping out of a shadowed door frame, alley or wall with a cigarette in one hand. Ashes fall to the ground with a flick of his wrist and he smiles.] Doctor Reid, just the man I've been looking for.