<div class="floatright">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/VernRieder.jpg)</div><div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 24pt;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: copperplate gothic bold;">Vern Reider</span></span><br/><strong>Location<strong> || <em>Vern's Room.</em><br/><strong>Tagging</strong> || <em>Vkraci</em></strong></strong></div><br/><hr/><hr/><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 9pt;">Vern felt a certain amount of tension slip away when he saw Vkraci nod in acceptance of the invitation. He quietly slipped away from the table, knowing that he wouldn’t follow immediately, and somehow both grateful and not for the fact. Of course, he didn’t want people to know, but the waiting was always the worst part of it. He moved into his room, removing some of his outer clothing while he waited. <br/><br/>The tension began to rise in the time it took for Vkraci to get there, and he was pacing by the time the man arrived. Now that the idea was in his head, it would take some sort of emergency to get his mind off it, and idle tasks seemed to do nothing to help. He knew the man would be there when he thought the time was right, however, so he would have to wait. At least patience was something he was used to, even when it irked him.<br/><br/>He was at the door mere moments after the light knock, opening it to face the other man. He had to resist the urge to yank the man inside, instead just moving out of the way so that Vkraci could enter, eyeing the pipe as he did. “Do you want to finish that, first?” Vern had no interest in the drug, himself. Though perhaps that was a lie, it would be nice to relax, but he couldn’t afford the luxury. His people needed him sober and aware, on the chance that something happen, that they need him. Just another sacrifice he made for them. Sometimes he wondered how long it’d take to kill him.</span>