Daken did not, in fact, die in a ditch. Or maybe he did. It would be impossible to tell, considering death was something he just shook off like a mild cramp. What was easy to tell was whether or not he had been stalking Lester. Obviously, he had. Bumping into someone once in the area was a coincidence, but twice was a cause for concern.
"Well, look who it is again," he mused, feigning surprise. Lester wasn't stupid, and Daken knew as much. That was why he hadn't even bothered to change out of his all-black attire made of soft fabrics that wouldn't make a sound while, oh, following someone. Tight semi-elastic pants hugged his lower half, while his upper half was covered with a well-fitting hooded sweatshirt. He could have been out for a workout, but Bullseye knew better.
