Devil stood, back, watching the others with crossed arms. He remained alert, while gauging the members with reddish-brown eyes of his, as they gauged eachother. A subtle expression of resentment or distrust seemed perpetually on his lips since his revealing himself, but he made no action. He merely observed.
The first person in the group that he studied was the one calling herself 'Shira'. The elf carried herself in a similar way to himself, those she was admittedly more graceful. Her fluidity of movement and her stances immediately revealed her to him as the most dangerous one here. Additionally, something about her made him uneasy. Maybe it was those unsettling silver eyes. These factors all lead him to suspect that she was all most likely enhanced with some high end 'ware. He noticed those peculiar eyes rested a little longer on the dog boy than the others and he detected sentimentality there and in her overly-friendly smile. Interesting. A killer with a soft spot for freaks.
Dog boy called himself 'Fang', which first made Devil smirk faintly for a moment. It was not only a fitting nickname, but pretty wiz too. The name lead him to the conclusion that the changeling, or whatever he was, had a decent sense of humor about it's appearance. He carried himself as if he were encumbered by the weight of wet clothes and modest gear, and was pretty thin, to the point where Devil had to wonder what the use of such a person could be in a criminal enterprise such as running the shadows. Maybe a rigger or techie. No sign of being a magic user, though that was how some of those people liked it. He noted that the creature's gaze lingered on him for a moment and he offered it a slight nod of recognition. There seemed to be no sign of malevolence there, with that one.
Next, Devil scanned the big blonde one briefly. He had seen his type before. Seemed to the thief like the shoot first sort, with his large weapon peaking out at times and his unnecessary bulky frame. Facial scars usually meant that a person either caused a lot of trouble, or some kind of career dealing in combat. Either way, Devil had passed his kind every day on the sidewalk. He knew how to handle such people and wasn't overly concerned, though he had no intention of getting on that one's bad side, face to scarred face.
The fashionable dwarf's role was also obvious. A magic slinger from the look of those softly glowing glyphs on his flamboyant coat. They were some kind of viking runes, if he remembered correctly. Logic would dictate that they were probably runes of protection or something like that. As a man in the business of covert ops, mages pissed Devil off something fierce. He knew well the dangers of encountering such people, and immediately distrusted the squat fellow, despite the dwarf's blank expression.
The one that later called himself called Mick stuck out to Devil as a somewhat perceptive and strategic man. The others gave the boozer various looks of distaste, but the handsome rogue merely watched the man, trying to get a read on him. Average in a number of ways, and he concealed himself well beneath the rough exterior, but he had seen combat in some form, judging by the way he kept his firearm at the ready. The subtle air of paranoia and the sheer readiness of this person first made Adrian think law enforcement, but the tells were so slight that he doubted himself. Some kind of ex-spy or skilled criminal maybe? Certainly one to keep an eye on. Intoxicated or not, Devil would not underestimate such a person.
He also surmised that if someone went to such lengths to get a man like himself there, then all of these people were probably close to his level, which made every single of of them quite dangerous in some way. He intended to find out more. Devil suddenly realized that nearly every other runner was looking at him. His eyes darted in uncomfortably rapid thought, his lips parting. "Devil", he stated curtly, finally introducing himself.
Using the momentum of leaning carefully forward, he took a step, then headed into the room behind Shira and Ahnak, as if trying to avoid all of their attentions. Upon entry, he looked the bodyguards up and down, taking note of positions and any visible weapons, before doing the same of the other two men. He already had a strong distrust of this dramatic Collider fellow, who had the nerve to track him down. He took it as a threat, and threatening Devil was usually a very poor choice in the long run.
Six against four visible, if it came to that, though he doubted that any such deception would be so obvious and unfavorable for the other side. Either they knew something that he didn't, or this job was at least partially on the level. Instead of putting himself in the compromising position of sitting down, he remained upright, leaning his back against the wall near the exit casually. His eyes shifted from one person to the next, reading; always reading, before settling on Mr. Johnson.
"Well... you've got us here.", he offered, a hint of irritation in his voice, as he made a bit of a gesture to emphasize his presence there. His tone suggested a demand for elaboration on the situation. Athletic arms crossed again over his chest and he placed a lux-loafer up against the wall, as if it somehow made him more comfortable to look wiz.
