<div class="floatleft">(http://metrosource.com.s123317.gridserver.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/Colb.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Enoch (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=158203.msg7308107#msg7308107)<br/><strong>Location:</strong>L.A. (<em>City of Angels my ass</em>)<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Oleg<br/><br/>The bike was loud, not Harley gang loud, but certainly noticeable, at least it would be if it was being ridden anywhere else BUT LA, but those were the breaks. Not that it mattered much to him, he liked the slim feel of the bike beneath him, the sleek and maneuvering grace it carried. It liked that though it made noise aplenty, it's vibration was low, a thrumming that he felt at the basest level of his senses. He also was rather fond of the leather jacket and tight demin jeans that rubbed against his skin coarsely, or the way his rings twinkled like the rubies in his ear. Maybe he was just having way too damn much fun as he usually was, but wasn't there to celebrate?<br/><br/>Better fighting evil that had already been found rather than knocking down several doors to find it first after all. And if he got bored and found it tiresome working for the government? He would leave, that's all there was to it and it was exactly what he'd told the agents that had found him. Not that it would be hard to find him, he wasn't exactly subtle about things,<em>especially</em>if you were sensitive to that kind of thing. He could be if he wanted too, he just chose not too, at least that way evil would on occasion make it's way to you.<br/><br/>He stopped the bike, music pouring into his ears from the small buds pressed into the recesses of each ear. A lit cigarette and a cocky if pleasant smile on his lips. He was glad to be back in the US again, clad in American leather and denim, ink of various varieties lining his skin and out in the open with his piercings, with all of the good old fashioned American hostility to such things. Sure he looked like some street hood ready to cause trouble, if a street hood could afford the gold and silver he used for all his piercings, for the large and a bit tacky ruby studs in each ear. Sure the archaic, tribal tattoos of swooping birds of prey, hunting big cats, reptiles of legend and all manner of things didn't help, but what did he care?<br/><br/>Pushing off from the bike with a sharp exhale of smoke, giving a purposeful double tap of two fingers on his bike before crossing the street with no glance either way. Ignoring the blaring horn he moved into the building with a grace that seemed out of place for the cocky way in which he behaved. Ignoring the expectant look from the secretary, he went to the elevator, already sensing the last traces of ethereal energy heading that direction. Whomever it was was either one hell of a being, or just cocky enough to not care what kind of aura trail they left behind.<br/><br/>With a toss of his hand, the sheaf of paper he was told to bring slid through narrow elevator doors as they closed, setting gently and neatly on the startled woman whom had been about the call security. Enoch smiled to himself, his mischief always got him in trouble at some point, but then again, it was what had made life interesting thus far outside of the fighting. Had to do something besides fight after all, even warriors needed a break here and there, even if it meant screwing around with other people.<br/><br/><em>Speaking of screwing around, hellooooo...</em><br/><br/>He smirked outwardly to the private thought, locking his mind down tight just to make sure whomever this was wasn't able to read his mind. It was simple enough, a trick any person who knew a thing about psychic and magical abilities learned very early on if they valued their privacy. Having fought for several months with a potent and gifted telepath/telempath had been an interesting experience, and the sex had been even more interesting.<br/><br/>He eyed the cliche assortment of drink and food and snorted, "good lord, you'd think they would at least spring for some<strong>good</strong>food and drink, shit. I'm Enoch by the way."<br/><br/>Shaking his head and pulling out a few various things obviously meant to mix together to make coffee, including his own grounds, he set to work. It was a matter of seconds, the tepid water boiling over with a flick of his wrist and then set through the filter set over his cup and he had his coffee. He was rather picky about his food and drink, and wasn't going to swallow some dollar store cup of government brand coffee.<br/><br/>"With all the tax money they milk from people, and you know the fact that they are having us risk our asses for them, they could get Starbucks or something...plus, there's a much better place for donuts right around the corner anyways." He sighed, lighting another cigarette while pulling out a flask and pouring the unnamed amber fluid into his large cup of coffee, "and who just might you be?"