15:25 - Minty's<br/><br/>The unassuming Amerindian man slips into the booth with those assembled percisely five minutes before the start of the meet, and says nothing, offering only a silent nod. Better to let others speak first, and reveal themselves a little. In the meantime his senses are primed, and he quiets his mind, becoming as his street name, a blank. He observes the little details across two planes of existance, looking both for a sign of trouble brewing, and for anything that might become important over time. If he is troubled by anything, or curious about his fellow runners, it does not show. Even the uniformed nature of their employer, this Ms. Johnson, does nothing to disturb his calm.<br/><br/>`We're usually paid to be subtle, lady.` Rough voice, street accent to suit the look. `And here you want us to make with the obvious boom boom. Three jobs in one isn't exactly a one kay payday. Even if you're calling it a milk run, we're the ones with our faces and hoops on the line.`<br/><br/>It was a low number, that was sure. Especially given their employer had actually mentioned the possibility of an execution. Such things were usually implied. Either she was new at the job, or pretending to be for their benefit.