- Well, if this is him, his power has enough finesse to change the shape of his face a little.  Lower cheekbones, bigger lips, and some distinctive scar tissue across one side of his face that wasn't in Tyrannissa's, ah, description.  But her sense of his power matches what she's heard - and if that black panther people saw was actually his daemon, then here it is lounging next to him.

Well if that's not him she can always start a bit of mayhem.

She walks up, sits next to him, not quite sprawling.

"Oh, hello," she drawls, as Moira lifts his head and flicks his tongue out at the panther. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

One of them's supposed to have a snake, right?

He doffs his hat and smiles, charmingly, declining as yet to show any signs of unusual stretchiness.  "I'd say so, yes."  He sounds perfectly ordinary, if possessed of a touch of old-fashioned formality, and charmed to have a stranger to make conversation with.  "I don't think I've seen your face before.  Do you live around here?"

Bast eyes the snake, implacably.

"Oh. I'm new to the area. A bit of a wanderer at heart, you see."

"Me too, as a matter of fact."  His face turns serious.  "Although I might not stay here very much longer.  I've heard some awful rumors.  - Ah, I don't mean to alarm," he says, flashing a genial grin.  "I'm just a shade paranoid."

"Oh? What sorts? I do love gossip."

"Not the pleasant sort, I'm afraid.  There's supposed to be a killer about."

"Oh my. How frightening." She doesn't seem particularly frightened at all.

Well gosh, if this is her she's tipping her hand early.  "Not an easy woman to faze, I take it?"

Well if this isn't him she doesn't want to waste her time, does she?

"Oh, not at all. Nothing shocks me, it seems. What do they say about this killer?"

"They say he's one of the ones with unnatural abilities.  Like the Guillotine - although I hadn't heard of him working with anyone else."

"Is that so? You know, I heard an interesting thing, that where there's one killer there's often more. Rather like roaches."

"Goodness.  Perhaps we really shouldn't stick around, then.  I hope you have some friends with whom you'll be safer."

"Heh. Perhaps. Though I do find myself a bit bored lately."

Hmm.  He was hoping she'd take the opportunity to offer to introduce him to the Guillotine.  Maybe she's still not totally sure?  Or wants an audition.

He chuckles.  "Is hanging around cities infested with serial killers a good way to stay entertained, in your experience?"

"Pretty good. Always helps add an air of tension. A bit of chaos, perhaps."

Her daemon idly tracks someone passing a bit closer by than the usual flow, weaving his head like a snake contemplating a mouse.

He laughs, like she told a joke, and follows the snake's gaze.  Goodness, he sure can turn his head.

"Well, it sounds like you came to the right place."  Amused smirk.  "I'm not sure I share your sense of fun, though.  I'd certainly want to get someplace safe before that stretchy fellow I've heard about showed up.  For instance."

"Oh, my surroundings tend to be quite safe. For me, at least."

"Well, I expect if he does show his face - " wink - "it will be quite an interesting meeting.  I am afraid I must depart before then, however."  He's not quite ready to be seen in public drastically altering his facial features - better to keep that trick up his sleeve, for now.  He stands.  "But with any luck, we'll see each other again soon."

"Oh, certainly. I do so look forward to it."

He doffs his hat again, and departs.  He's very good at disappearing into crowds, though Decima will be able to track the emanation of his power into a back alley.  After a time, he emerges once again into the main road, moving slowly through the crowd.

All's quiet, for a few moments.  Then, a susurration, not quite panicked just yet, as people recognize him or think they recognize him.  He stands still, shoulders loose, hands in his pockets, allowing a whispering crowd to form around him - "Is that him?" "What's he doing?" " - just standing there - "

He spreads his arms wide.  "That's right, folks, it's me."

Then his right arm shoots out to four times its previous length, fingers tangling and twining around a man's head, snaking down his throat, lifting him off the ground as he struggles.

Chaos.

She sits and watches and itches to join in, but, no, this is an audition.

They can see later how well they mesh.

(Perhaps if a hero shows up? Oh, she does so hope a hero shows up.)

The woman sitting with her chin in her hand, grinning, eyes bright, probably stands out at least somewhat.

Most of the crowd is necessarily going to be able to get away.  But he raises his other hand, and its fingers lengthen and snake through the air, looping around ankles and throats and, in one case, a sparrow daemon, causing a man to drop to the ground and wail.

Judging by the people whose throats he's constricting with his fingers, they're not limited by a finger's ordinary strength.

(It's not clear to what extent his daemon is participating in this display, but she is focusing very intently on him.)

She watches, amused, and feels the emergency services arriving just as the sirens start wailing. The cops here seem to have one hero on their roster, too. Beautiful.

And, oh, a projectile-enhancer. Interesting, and likely combines nicely with allies.

She stands up and idly moves away, positioning herself so she can keep watching without risking getting caught herself.