The journalist snorted. "Of course there's a scoop! I mean come on, look at you. Running around with that weapon, chasing that thing. If that isn't a scoop, I don't know what the heck is." Dylan backed up, and felt a wall crash against his back. He winced, and slipped his camera into his bag. The bag dropped to the floor behind his feet. His hands, he readied, and flexed his legs. There was no where to go but forward, and it felt like that would take a fight. "I don't know what the heck you're talking about. Everyone can see you, can't they?" The cold was gone, replaced by a too warm heat.