<strong>Name:</strong>Riks<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Bar<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Taurus<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Riks chuckled and poured the doctor another drink, wondering if he could always handle vodka like that while remaining articulate and level-headed, or if his transformation had made him a little tougher to the alcohol. It'd probably be a little easier to tell after he had another glass of the clear stuff in him. "That's why you're going to see a lot of really tough types like Jack around tonight. We need a line of defense like that if we want to make sure our plans aren't just stamped out by the bigger players. It's a good thing Marc was a doer in his old gangs, so he knew which people it would be best to get in touch with when a time like this came. The only problem is actually getting so many different races to work with you, but somehow he gets that done, too."<br/><br/>The orc took a glance around the bar, his ears still listening as the morphed man evaluated his own instincts a little further, but his eyes being used to pinpoint several of these soldiers types around the room. For the most part, each of them (Shizuru, Ariel, Jack, Zharkov...) had a mind as deadly as whatever other weapons they wielded, which is probably why most of them were freelancers and not loyal thugs. He wondered if his boss could really manage to tame all of these beasts, but nephilim were notoriously good at achieving the improbable.<br/><br/>Hearing the bull nearly answer his own question about the angel, Riks nodded, glancing in her direction again. "Don't let her appearance fool you. She has a way with words, but sometimes word can wound a man more deeply than any sword or gun, even words intended to help. Oh, and be careful not to pull on her wing feathers. They really don't like that."