Against the wall of the building opposite the residential tower's loading dock, the brick-and-concrete facade rippled once before detaching itself, fading into the dull grey of an inert chameleon suit wrapped like a second skin around a massive, hulking frame. Paradox had gotten the message, and shown up two hours before the scheduled meeting time - he couldn't guess what might be waiting inside, but he had taken the time to observe the other visitors. He didn't know what to make of them, but none of them twigged him as an obvious threat - or more importantly, send him into a spiral of nightmarish images, half-remembered in brutal icy clarity.<br/><br/>A long coat cut for his seven-foot frame sat neatly and inconspicuously folded on a nearby box, and he slipped into it as he headed for the elevator, climbing in and riding silently to the top of the building. He kept his eyes closed during the trip, out of reflex; sometimes elevators had things in reflections that he knew but didn't remember. The redheaded greeter got a nod of acknowledgement, and he slipped into the dining room, seven hundred pounds of muscle that moved with liquid grace. A quick scan of the room, a quicker study of the chairs, and he settled into the nearest unoccupied chair.<br/><br/>"Ladies. I'm Paradox."