<span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ff99">When they reached the third sub-basement, they found an older man -- and God help the person who called him elderly -- at a reloading bench.  He touched two fingers to his temple in an abbreviated salute to Cat.  "Afternoon, kitten.  What brings you down to my lair?  You look..." he trailed off, catching sight of Gabriel.<br/>
<br/>
"Colonel David Pinney, this is Gabriel Sullivan," Cat began.<br/>
<br/>
The man rose from his seat, only slightly hampered by the ravages of age.  "Warden," he said in a respectful tone, inclining his head.  "I have no cause to concern the Council."  </span><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(153, 255, 153)">Surrounded as he was by tech, it was unlikely that Pinney was a practitioner himself -- but he likely knew some.  There were magical wards around his home, and the odd magical object tucked about the building.  He was not a swordsman -- so not a wielder of one of the Holy Swords.  But he had that same air of competence and calm that one might find in a Knight.  <br/>
<br/>
"Um, Dave?" Cat asked warily.<br/>
</span><br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#99ff99">Dave smiled at her then.  "Nevermind.  Come in, tell me what it is you need."</span></span>