<strong>Name:</strong>Nick Voss (Satyr)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Marc, Jessamyne, Charisma, Tork, Aunnel, Jack<br/><br/>'Mr. Suave' smirked, but got to business.<br/><br/>Deciding to leave the brooding wolf for last, he headed for the professional elf in her booth first.<strong>"Boss says it's time to get moving, so grab your kit."</strong>he smiled at Jessamyne, still not knowing the mysterious elven woman's name, but respecting her professionalism from earlier. Nodding to the 'human' she sat with, wondering why he didn't smell anything infernal about him, he left the intimate booth.<br/><br/>The rest were at the bar, and Nick was still far from eager to tell Jack to do anything. Snorting he glanced around, catching sight of Charisma again. He noticed how her eyes glanced away from her demonic lover as he pressed close to her, straying across the more 'monstrous' bar denizens. A dark smile danced over his lips, recalling some old saying about tiger's and stripes.<br/><br/>But business was at hand, so he got to it. There seemed to be a variety of heavy hitters at the bar, but he started at one end and worked his way down.<br/><br/>Tork was first, and Nick patted his shoulder with a large calloused hand.<strong>"If your here to get paid, best finish that drink and meet me at the door greenskin. We've got heads to crack."</strong>he grinned widely, always liking fighting (alongside or against) Orcs. They were tough sons of bitches, and hit about as hard as he could. Always made for a fun fight when tusks and horns got involved.<br/><br/>Leaving the Orc to finish up, he noticed a beer drinking human. Assuming Aunnel was a shell for something more powerful, and detecting that distinctive scent, he knocked on the bartop beside the man's drink.<strong>"Time to roll out, assuming you want your share of the pay."</strong>he smiled grimly, hoping the demon was stronger than his pretty boy shell looked. It was usually safe to assume so, but sometimes those skinsuits were just window dressing on a vain little devil. Either way, he didn't betray any suspicion about Aunnel's power to him, and got a move on down the bar.<br/><br/>Left with only the clearly pissed right the fuck off wolf, Nick sighed quietly. The satyr took a seat beside him cautiously.<strong>"Boss says it's time to work."</strong>his voice was low, rumbling and quiet, his speech slowed a little. He wasn't shitting his pants or anything, but playing nice and cool when someone with claws was seething, sometimes it kept 'em calm enough not to flip their shit on you. Just in case, Nick glanced at the lock holding the chain wrapped around his forearm, doubting he'd need it but not wanting to make any stupid mistakes.<strong>"It should be a good scrap too. Dwarves and beasts need a lotta hitting to go down."</strong>he chuckled slightly, and knocked on the bartop.<strong>"Cya outside wolfman. Lookin forward to seein the legend at work."</strong>he made brief eye contact with him then, Nick's gaze steady and calm, his smile warm. Standing slowly, he left the bar.<br/><br/>He spent the next few minutes rounding up anyone else he thought looked like they were there to work, not just get drunk and maybe get fucked in the sleazy little dive. When he was done, he headed for the door himself, collecting up his weapons, and deciding to wait up against the outer wall, keeping a sharp eye on the traffic that passed by, waiting for the boss.