Hunter
He makes his way into the nexus. Carefully. Silently. Keeping to shadows the best he can.
He looks dirty, pale, almost gaunt. There's something weirdly fluid about the way he moves, as if joints and bones are merely a convenient and easy way to imitate proper movement. He shies away from people, but the look on his face suggests something other than fear or uncertainty. This isn't his usual skittishness when being LOL'd. More like he's considering options before allowing approach.
Finally, he spies his jeep, and after hissing at the bright light, makes his way over, still careful to keep a distance from people. Out in the light, his clothes look as dirty and ragged as the rest of him.
His hands are covered in dried blood. So are his feet, which are bare. He keeps his eyes nearly squeezed shut.
Reaching the jeep, he leaps on it's hood, crouching, inspecting. He virtually flows over the windshield after a moment, twisting like a snake to sit in the driver's side. A backwards lean over the seat to peer at the scrambled mess there, and then a lean to the right, and a shuffling of the contents of the glove compartment.
After a moment, he gives another disgusted hiss and is back over the windshield, crouching on the hood and staring at other nexus goers.
"My gun is missing," he has the voice of someone long gone into dehydration, "Where is it?"