<strong>Name:</strong>Adam Smith<br/><br/><strong>Location:</strong>Gehenna, booth<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Berenger Zharkov, Carol Neathawk<br/><br/>Adam watched and listened passively as the elven couple argued. For all intents and purposes, he may as well not have been there. His breathing came steady and shallow, rather quiet, and apart from that, he made no movements apart from the occasional blink beneath his mask. He did not shift his weight or attempt to achieve a position of greater comfort. The position he sat in was the one that he remained in while the couple argued, their volume growing and Adam himself forgotten in their youthful, dramatic passion. Adam watched the hand gestures fly and heard the epithets fall from their lips.<br/><br/>And then Zharkov came over. And it all came to an abrupt, unsatisfied end. The shouting throes of the argument reached no conclusion, no climax. It was not what Adam had paid for, he mused, as Zharkov took over the scene and called in his picked men. Hard men, no doubt. Harder than Adam, likely. As Zharkov put his hand on the girl, and forced her head down, Adam continued to watch impassively. He waited for the hatchet to fall, but, ostensibly, Zharkov relented because of his presence. Adam had no inkling as to what motivated Zharkov to stop, really, but the correlation between his presence and Zharkov's decision not to immediately decapitate the young elf girl seemed present. It was not something that weighed heavily upon Adam.<br/><br/>He rose and followed after Zharkov, but did not take a seat at the man's booth. For one, it was too small for his mass. For another, he did not particularly want to partake of the man's company. Adam was not afraid or perturbed by Zharkov . . . simply indifferent to socializing with him.<br/><br/><strong>"If you are going to kill them, I want my money back from the woman first."</strong>Adam said. His voice was flat and emotionless, neither fawning, nor disrespectful, but very clearly he was not asking.