Since his appointment as deputy sheriff, it isn't often that Erik can be found outside of Mafaton anymore. Not by chance, anyway. He has not barricaded himself inside the canton (although on some days he considers it), but spends the majority of his time on patrol, and the rest of it sleeping or otherwise making himself unavailable to the public. Sometimes, though, he takes a walk—just Erik, alone, his dark wool coat down to his thighs, scarf under his chin, looking solemn under his cap. Sometimes, he may even chance upon someone he recognizes. Usually he avoids them.

Today, however, when he spies a head of bright pink hair crossing the bridge between Brock Marsh and Griss Twist, he decides to follow it. It's not that he's being furtive about it, he only waits until he's seen her face before approaching her—being accosted by strange, serious men has a tendency to surprise some people, after all, and Erik is not out to menace anyone needlessly.
(Today.)

"Megan, is it?" He's not right behind her, or anything, but approaching from something of a distance.