MacC
Snap, Johnson meets us in a ... aeronautical theme bar? Crap, that's way too awkward.
Mac sighs as he encounters the very professional ork and his very communicative manners. In the same moment his unease grows.
If Johnson meets in an unsecure place like this, there might be one of two reasons. Either, he wants the place to be cheap, in which case he ain't gonna pay big creds. Or, he wants the place to be unsecure, in which case I ain't gonna be careless.
Suppressing a swear, he waves for the waiter. "Bring me a beer, please. Or whatever resembles beer the most."
Then, with a grumpy expression on his face, he makes for the toilet. Mac, old man, you're getting seriously paranoid. Time you head for a con instead of shadow biz. It's making you way too itchy.
In the toilet, he turns on the sink's tap and sits down cross-leggedly on the cold toilet floor with eyes shut, first half-muttering to himself, then chanting a silent murmur in order to focus on the sound of the flushing water and the spirits within. When he feels it is time, he reaches out for Father Pontos. "Father of Sea and Rain and River, protector of Life, send my Thy kin to protect me from what peril I expect. Let their eyes be my eyes, their strength be my strength, their heart be my heart."
He then sits, eagerly waiting for the spirit of the faucet to show up.