For years, Diego ran at the ass crack of dawn. The rhythmic beat of his feet against the ground, nothing in his head but putting one foot in front of the other and pushing himself to go farther each time, all of that kept him grounded. For someone who balked so much at enforced structure and rigid discipline, he sure as shit kept up on this.
But that was because it was his decision to do. He chose it. not someone else telling him when to wake up, when to go to sleep, what to study, how to train, wrong, wrong, wrong, Number Two. And if he was honest with himself? Diego did better with support. People who gave a damn, and people he could count on, no matter what. People he was accountable to and for.
And then there were other people he had to talk to out of necessity he supposed, which, fuck that noise. So the running helped with that too, some morning endorphins to make his bright and sparkling personality truly shine with the light of happiness and goodwill to all.
Sure.
Diego came around the corner, his soundtrack the morning din of the city and the sound of his breath in his ears. He preferred it that way, music served as a distraction and made people less aware of their surroundings, which usually resulted in some sort of trouble. Which was how he was able to spot Eadwulf as well as he did, the man looking a bit of a mess but with a boss ass sword (unsurprisingly, Diego noticed the sword right away, of course he did). He glanced down at the fitness tracker on his wrist, noting his distance and heart rate and briefly contemplated continuing the run because this was absolutely none of his business.
None of his business, none of his business, none of his business, just keep moving. He slowed down the closer he got to the darkened shop, screw you, legs.
"What the fuck?" Just, in general, Diego supposed.