She had to suppress a grin at the reaction she got. The men all tensed, practically panting. The charade collapsed around her, transforming from a quiet afternoon in a restaurant, to the business place of a dangerous group of men in ten seconds flat. If only she'd known she only needed a suitcase to accomplish that, she could have saved herself a great deal of trouble in the past.<br/><br/>The quiet rustling of motion was silenced instantly as a noise came from the back of the room. This time, she did smile. She tried hard not to, but come on... the man had snapped his fingers. That's all. And they all shut up and subsided. He never even looked up from his food. She looked around, searching for the cameras she knew must be present. Surely she'd wandered onto the set of Goodfellas. Surely.<br/><br/>When he gave his instruction to allow her, and the penguin turned to gape at her, she returned the expression with a smile that would look to him to be more like the baring of teeth, "I'd do as he says..."<br/><br/>Still smiling just a bit, she followed the penguin as he waddled and shuffled his way to the back of the room. She left her suitcase where it was near the door without a second thought, hoping it would leave them all to stew and fret over it, wondering what was in it.<br/><br/>The room was too neat... to refined... to controlled for her taste, so she turned the chair around backwards, straddled it, and braced her elbow on the chair back, which was now in front of her. The posture was completely uncomfortable to her, especially in her current clothing, but she knew it would throw a wrench in his gears, even if it only served to irritate him. After all, how often was it that someone disrespected him this way?<br/><br/>"Mr. Lombardi," she responded, her tone perfectly polite and business-like to match his, and just as void of respect, "It is long overdue that your people and mine should meet. I appreciate your taking the time to see me. My name is Stephanie Blackwater, but please... call me Stephanie. We needn't stand on formality here, I believe."<br/><br/>She extended a hand, leaning forward against the chair to reach, which forced her to press herself against the chair a bit. In her current clothing, the movement felt awkward and strained. She would normally not be caught dead in a get up like this, but she managed to pull of a comfortable demeanor. The charcoal slacks and suit jacket over a muted maroon blouse made her look strong, confident, and feminine. Belying the costume, the hand she offered was vacant of jewelry, nails, or decorations of any kind. The watch that stuck out from under the sleeve of her blouse and suit jacket was of the athletic variety, rather than of gold or platinum as would be expected.