<strong>Character</strong>: Rich Han<br/><strong>Location</strong>: Gary Danko Backroom, Fisherman's Wharf<br/><strong>Time</strong>: Present<br/><strong>Attire</strong>: Running shoes, cargo pants, t-shirt<br/><strong>Tagged</strong>: Rich, Rose<br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>When he saw the woman approaching, knife in hand, a rapid series of thoughts flickered across his mind.  His first impulse was to leap out and smash his impromptu blackjack into her temple, but that knife posed a serious threat to his well being.  Best to avoid conflict with this one.  Rich glanced around the storeroom, looking for a place to hide and finding none.  The room was a stone cube with no nooks or crannies to hide himself entirely.<br/><br/>He couldn't fight and he couldn't hide.  He could run... but no, he'd have to juke past her, since she was blocking his only exit, and that was a very long and sharp knife.  Plus, he'd need to bring his backpack, and that'd slow him down too much.  The woman's physique was tough to discern given her clothing, but the smooth and unconsciously confident way in which she moved indicated that she could easily catch up to him, especially weighed down as he was with all this food.<br/><br/>That left only two options: sit in here with his thumb up his ass and let her decide the outcome of their meeting, or put on the mask and play friendly until he was in the clear.<br/><br/>Two seconds after first spotting her from the crack where the storeroom door met the doorframe, Rich grabbed his backpack and hefted it onto his shoulders.  He dragged it a bit across the stone floor, making sure she'd hear him.  That way, if she had a gun or was some fucking knife-throwing ninja, he wouldn't be on the receiving end of a potentially deadly reflexive defense when she saw him.<br/><br/>Rich paused while he was still hidden from the woman and took a second to collect his thoughts.<em>Jumpy, nervous, endearing, vulnerable.  Just like Mark.  If she sees that as an opportunity, so be it.  I have to count on her compassion, for now anyway.</em><br/><br/>With his mental mask in place, Rich casually rounded the doorway and came into clear view of the woman in the kitchen.<br/><br/>Rich stood a few centimeters taller than the woman.  His clothing fit well and snug to his skinny frame.  His somewhat drawn face, bearded and with a shock of black hair on top, seemed balanced on the end of a long pole.  He allowed his eyes to widen in surprise, as if he was just seeing her for the first time.<br/><br/>"Oh shit!" he swore, stumbling backwards in apparent surprise.  One hand grabbed for purchase on the door while the other rose in front of him, palm out toward the woman.  The weight in his backpack pulled him off balance, and he let himself swing askew of the door before stabilizing.<br/><br/>Now he stood just inside the storeroom, feet wide, his right hand buried in the thigh pocket of his cargo pants.  He licked his lips nervously.  "Hey now, you're not planning on using that, right?" he asked anxiously, looking pointedly at the knife she held in her hand.