(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y38/Kamasuri/e708ae81-359a-4a70-9425-fc1a23672cc9_zpseb10e79d.jpg) Sometimes, people simply knew that someone was bad news. Sometimes, they were bad news in a very real, hostile way, and other times, that sometimes bad news could be a hell of a lot of fun. Kurtis Freison was bad news, with a thick head of rich dark hair, a trimmed but full beard, tall stature with a broad but lean frame, and damn, did he look notoriously good. Now well out of his twenties, the man was in his prime, and masculine sexuality rolled off of him like waves of the ocean crashing against shore. His very presence inspired naughty impulses, whether of a sexual nature or not, though he tended to bring the former to the forefront of people's thoughts, as he walked with a perpetual tent in his trousers. This was the curse of being the son of a male fertility deity, the eternal erection that had plagued him since puberty was a triviality now, and while passerby couldn't help get an eyeful of the supernatural bulge, he barely noticed. In short, he was a Scion of Freyr, who had a few run-ins with Uncle Loki that proved mutually beneficial, and those experiences with Fate had crafted him into something of the Rogue of Myth. A con-artist, a thief, a fellow with little respect for the rules or laws of society, that carved his own path for his own satisfactions.<br/><br/>It was clear, looking at him, that he had this outlook. When he entered the Temptation, he had the look of a man who lacked sleep, was grumpy, and in dire need of a coffee and a greasy breakfast. He looked at his watch, as the waiting staff and some of the patrons peeked at him, and deemed himself officially late, and sighed heavily.<br/><br/>When he started getting the torrent of phone calls and text messages, he prayed that they were something else. But no, each and every one was from some young Scion that the Powers That Be decided were his problem now, and gave him the direct order to be their collective Guide for their blooming Band. "Fuck it," he muttered under his breath, voice smooth and deep, like a rich chocolate, with the tell-tale coarseness of one well acquainted with whiskey, "might as well get this over with."<br/><br/>Kurt headed towards the bar, and took a quick scan of the restaurant and casino, and it didn't take long to find a table populated with beautiful and horrifying individuals. The hag, in particular, was eye catching.<br/>Though at the bar, Kurt noticed two women speaking with a server, and in the mirror against the wall, Kurt saw his own reflection in the hand of the girl with the strawberry curls.<em>That must be Jessica, which means the other's got to be Hitomi,</em>he deduced, having already been given some preliminary information on the prospective members of this Band the Gods are eager to mash together. His cell rang with a notification, a text from Hitomi, which only helped validate his suspicions.<br/><br/>His long legs took Kurt towards the two women, and sidled up against the Daughter of Aphrodite in a playfully invasive way. Kurt was familiar with her type, and was interested in seeing how she would react when someone else took the aggressive stance in a social situation. The bartender's lips moved, but no words came out, as he pointed past Jessica's shoulder.<br/>"Darlin', I would greatly appreciate if you didn't go around showing this off," Kurt stated, as his large hand reached around and plucked the photo from Jessica's hands and handed it to Hitomi.<br/><br/>"Ladies, I'll go ahead and skip the pleasantries, and just say it's good to see you both. I'm guessing the rest of your team is waiting over yonder, if you're up for meeting them," he cooly stated, as he gestured for the bartender to pour him double of whiskey. With drink in hand, Kurt backed off and made his way towards the table where the Heroes had began to congregate.<br/><br/>Kurt didn't bother to wait and see whether or not Hitomi and Jessica followed him, it was their prerogative. Instead, Kurt just wandered over to a different table, occupied by one lonely guy that Kurt recognized from a supplied photograph, and knocked on the counter to get the guy's attention. Benjamin Ames was easy to pick out of a crowd. "Hey, if you want to join the rest of your crew, they're over this way," he bluntly informed his "cousin," before heading towards the booth himself.<br/><br/>Kurt didn't bother to introduce himself, and simply sat down beside the hideous Cuckoo, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders like they were old friends. To be fair, while ugly as sin, Kurt had seen worse. Besides, it might spur an interesting reaction out of someone. The glass was raised to his lips, and Kurt took a swig of whiskey, before gently placing the glass onto the table. "Sorry I'm late. So, what are we talkin' about?"