<div class="floatleft">(http://imageshack.com/a/img537/5809/gv0yiL.png)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">Mason Kincaid,</span><em>Contact &amp; Party Host</em><br/>2519, present day<br/>Mason Kincaid's Home, Southdown Hills, Persephone<br/>Tagging - Samson<br/>Wearing - This tuxedo. (http://imageshack.com/a/img673/500/PwfubZ.jpg)<br/>Location - In his parlour<br/><br/><hr/><br/>"That would depend on whether you equate 'the smuggler' with the real Mason Kincaid. Rich doesn't mean honourable, but in this part of the world it means status and manpower, both of which are very useful in the right hands." Mason was pleased to see Samson drinking his whiskey. It was as it should've been, especially with the quantity of whiskey his own family supplied.<br/><br/>"Sometimes I sub-contract, sometimes I just make the connections. The problem with sub-contracting is you've always got to find the folk to do a job... now finding people, that ain't hard at all, especially on a world like Persephone. So many people passing through, but if you take on a job - even if you ain't doing it yourself, you're taking responsibility for that job. It needs to be done right, and that means you don't want green, untested people. You want people who aren't going to shoot through and burn your reputation in the process, so I am very careful in the contracts I accept. A man like me's got to be.<br/><br/>A couple of dozen troops couldn't do this job, going in the front door. You'll need stealth, someone who's good with security and the balls to do it. Your contact is downstairs at the party. A man by the name of Dale Rocheson. Not his real name, as you might expect. I'll introduce ya." He rose from his chair, downing his drink in the process.<br/>