<div class="floatright">(http://i.imgur.com/mDV66ep.jpg)</div><strong>Character:</strong>Oscar Valdez<br/><strong>Location/Time:</strong>Just before 0930 hours.  63 Wall Street, New York, New York.  Penthouse.<br/><strong>Attire:</strong>Blue-grey business jacket and slacks.  White dress shirt.  Black shoes.  Black sunglasses.<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Everyone in the room mentioned.  Interacting with Kaine, Quinn, Temple, and Oestreicher.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The opening of the door had drawn Oscar's head towards it.  He had been expecting a big, bad-looking man, an intimidating force.  Certainly not someone looking so inconspicuous, and certainly not a slender and appealing blonde.<br/><br/>His eyes watched her from behind the thick shades.  When he had been given the choice, the overview, of what was happening, of what he was signing up for, there had been certain expectations about what his team would be composed of in his mind.  Special forces.  People with strong military vibes.  The best of the best of the best type of shit.  But a woman like her?  A hand reached up, bringing the glasses down just a little as he continued to eat the first real, decent meal in what seemed like a lifetime.<br/><br/>I'd do her, he thought to himself, pushing the sunglasses back up over his strained, hangover-stung eyes, and giving the woman a polite nod of the head.<br/><br/>It wasn't long until the door was opened again.  On that occasion, the female figure had piqued his interest in a different light.  His head turned to see the hesitant look on her face, the uncertainty that was undeniable.  That one had given Oscar the impression of a reservedness, that she wasn't in the mood to make small talk in his opinion.  Which didn't bother him at all, he thought, as he took another bite of the ham sandwich.  The girl had seen some shit, was tough and on guard.  He liked her already.<br/><br/>I'd do her too, he thought to himself.<br/><br/>When the other man came into the room, Oscar took care to take note of him.  He had screamed military to him, beneath the suit.  Something in the way he walked, in the way he carried himself.  And the shoes.  Those highly polished shoes.  He didn't strike him as the type who was a man of Wall Street and the Stock Exchange.  No.  This was a military man, used to keeping himself looking respectable and in top shape.  Oscar had been around the type often, and couldn't help but to notice the suit.  Clean and crisp.  A decent price tag, no doubt.<br/><br/>Maybe if I was drunk, Oscar considered, I'd do him.<br/><br/>The next person to enter had seemed like the first, yet different.  Whereas the other who had entered the room after him had a certain aura of toughness, the newest addition to the Super Cool Assassins Club had given Oscar the impression of innocence, in a sense.  She had to be good, dependable and strong enough to earn a place at the table.  Military, perhaps, but at first glance, she didn't necessarily scream it at him.<br/><br/>Then again, he considered, he could only imagine the impression he was giving off to the others.<br/><br/>“Oscar.” He introduced himself as she gave a general greeting.  He offered a hand.  “Or Valdez or whatever.”<br/><br/>Soon the last person arrived, or what he thought to be the last person with the last empty space at the table.  It was hard to get a good read on the woman, her face like stone, hiding any hint of emotions and intentions.  And when she sat, looking comfortable, at peace, almost instantly, it made the woman all the more formidable in his mind.  Maybe she was like him, another con just happy to be out on a fancy work-release program.  Maybe she was a trained killer, just waiting for the chance to strike.  He simply could not ell, and as a person who enjoyed reading people, it was intimidating.<br/><br/>With the arrival of the last person, the screen on the wall flickered to life, and Oscar's attention diverted to it.  Good morning, Charlie, he thought to himself, enjoying the last breath of levity, before the mood and conversation turned to business.  He brushed his hands upon his suit, cleaning his calloused paws of crumbs before reaching out and pulling the box to himself.  True to the man's statements, everything was there just as he said.  The phone.  The envelope of identification.  A small amount of cash.  Not bad, Oscar thought to himself.<br/><br/>The topic turned to their current objective.  Oscar's attention focused upon it, the sun glasses removed and deposited into the pocket of his suit.  It was disappointing to hear that the window of opportunity was that evening, when he had planned to continue the celebrations of the previous night, but he didn't openly complain.  He was thankful he didn't load up the orange juice with the airplane bottle of vodka in his pocket though.<br/><br/>It seemed simple enough.  Their mission could be a walk in the park, if everything went well.  He was liking their odds.<br/><br/>The man named Oestreicher began to speak.  As he laid out the directives for each and everyone of them, Oscar had remained quiet.  When it came to him and his orders, he gave a simple nod of the head, already running through the various ideas and schemes in his mind.<br/><br/>His mind was still going over the various ideas and schemes when the detective went off.  Clearly she was not happy with her orders.  It could have been the target, and his taste of women.  It could have been just a bad day.  For all he knew, it could have been the fact he didn't make sandwiches for everyone.  He just hoped that this temper wasn't the norm when it came to dealing with the detective.<br/><br/>“Whoa whoa whoa there, Detective...” Oscar began, looking around the room for some support before swiveling around in his chair to face the tough cop.  “Ain't no-body asking you to be a GPS.”<br/><br/>“Now, I'm sure our tech guru here could get us some exfil plans, but it's sure as hell a whole lot of difference from looking at maps and cameras, and being there behind the wheel.  Not that I'm doubting the lovely lady's abilities.”  He looked over to the hacker, his eyes lingering before giving her a playful wink before turning back to the cop.  “In my book you're a valuable asset.  Maybe the most valuable to me.  You know streets.  Back streets.  Know response time.  Probably are familiar with whoever is running security over there at this place.  You're my ticket to not getting burned and getting embarrassed.”<br/><br/>He sat up a bit straighter in his chair.  “Normally, I'd just take a rifle to the building across the way, or make him a nice package of C-4.  But, since we're doing this nice and tidy, my ass is probably going to be on the ground, and while I don't usually like working on the ground with people I don't know, you're more than welcome to tag along, help me with securing the spot, doing our thang.  Whatever.” Oscar said.  It didn't sit entirely right with him, going out on a limb and going against what he was usually accustomed to on a job, but he wasn't lying when he stated the value she had when he was going to be on the ground, leaving a murder scene.  If bringing her along to help clean up and contain the target meant pleasing her into getting him the hell out of there to freedom, he'd do it.<br/><br/>Oscar looked to David.  “That work for you, Boss?”