Author's note: It's been a while since I wrote a Nomak ficlet, and he deserved one - many more than one, if you ask me. So here's a recent 15minuteficlets inspired Nomak ficlet. Hope you enjoy, and please review.

Disclaimer: I do not own, so please, don't sue me.


He wore tattered clothes, a nice, tan, fur coat with worn edges, fingerless gloves that weren't meant to be fingerless, unlaced boats that were made for wet conditions, and dirty, torn pants and shirt. A worn, torn scarf completed the ensemble of the outfit, the hood of the coat up, covering his head and hiding his face,

Everyone thought he was a druggie, perhaps, a little too broad and his clothes not quite dirty enough to be a beggar's. He wasn't a bum, yet he didn't seem like a junkie either. Or was it the clothes and his broad shoulders and the knowledge that he had the build and strength to easily find a job that told them he wasn't some broke, desperate man searching for someone who sold his fix dirt cheap?

He looked like he was a handsome, toned young man underneath the soiled, used clothing. He carried himself with a strange dignity despite his bowed head. He showed know real signs of being an addict of anything really. His fingers sometimes twitched or fidgeted, but that was all. No shaking, no strange behavior. Just a dark, reclusive demeanor.

Everyone was scared of him, really. He didn't seem dangerous like the usual desperate types, like the manic, rabid animals they'd become from their addictions. They didn't think he'd pull a knife or a gun, threatening someone for liquor money or for the drug he knew was hidden in their pockets.

He looked like the type to just rip your head off. Like he would just come up and break your neck before taking what he deemed his. He was silent and solitary. He'd shown no signs of violence yet, but he looked like he could. Like he would.

Everyone knew it was only a matter of time. Everyone could see he was just hunting down his fix - whatever it was. Everyone watched him as he passed, ignoring the other bums and druggies and whores, they watched him walk among them yet not belong. They didn't want him to belong, and they knew he didn't want to either.

He wasn't one of them. He was something else. And as long as nobody messed with him, he wouldn't only take what he needed and leave all others to themselves.