Monday February 15, 2072; 17:07, The Edge, Elven District, Seattle Downtown, UCAS
Ironclad, Dirk, and Talon caught a hint in the corner of their eye as the appetizer was eaten - was that guy at the next table watching them? It was hard to say for sure. He may have just been curious about the odd assortment of folk at the table. J was pretty sure he heard a familiar voice, but with the acoustics in this place it was hard to say for certain. Before any of them had a real chance to check him out, he and his date stood up. As the woman left, though, the man came over to the table to join the group.
"Enjoying your salad, I trust?" the elf inquired as he slid gracefully into his seat. One seat still remained empty.
"I'm sure it's not quite the fare most of you are accustomed to, but a change in pace is often welcome, I find." Not everyone's face agreed.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Leather Face." He paused as if expecting laughter.
"Well, like I said, I wasn't going to give you a name, so I just borrowed one."Ironclad noted his ARO. The name it was broadcasting was Mister Johnson - with "Mister" actually being his first name. Brass ones on this guy. He doubted any of the information on the link would be helpful.
"Sorry to eavesdrop, but I do like to have as many advantages as I can," he continued. The more he talked, the more certain each of them became: this was the voice that had invited them here. No mask this time? Interesting.
"And I'm sorry about sounding so….shall we call it forceful?…. on the message. I'm in quite a hurry, and team-building the nice way can take weeks. And yet…" he glanced at the empty chair,
"One decided not to show up anyway. I'll deal with him later."The group glared at him, pondering the implications of what "deal with him" meant.
"Please, I don't mean like that. I'm not a monster." The glares continued.
"Fine, if you must know, I'm going to mark him off on our runner registry so we know he's not a reliable asset. Despite your misgivings, you all seem to be trusting enough. The truly paranoid wouldn't have touched that salad."The group stopped mid-chew as if on command. Leather Face laughed.
"Christ, lighten up guys. I didn't have your damn salads poisoned. I told you, I've got a job for you. Besides, this place has a reputation to uphold. Have you ever tried bribing them to poison someone? That gets expensive."The elf brushed his hair aside. Medium length, dark, and well groomed, it almost covered his elven ears - and probably could cover them if he didn't specifically try not to. It curved gently to meet his angular chin at the jawline. Par for the course for the Edge, he was wearing a slickly tailored pinstripe suit and dark gray sweater underneath. He looked young, but then again, he was an elf. They looked young at sixty.
The waitress appeared around the corner, ready to take orders from everyone.
"Ah, here we are. I'd like the herbed risotto with sun dried tomatoes, and I'll have a glass… no, a bottle of the 2061 Tairngire Vineyards Merlot." The waitress noted it and moved around the table, taking the order of each in turn.
