<div class="floatright">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/a0/42/97/a0429768a1b37bcb7d5ae90678f6fcd9.jpg)</div><strong>Sebastian Van Carlyle (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=313925.msg15196499#msg15196499)</strong><hr/><br/>Life was all about playing the game, and the game was selling people what you wanted them to buy. Sometimes you wanted them to buy something physical, goods or services. Other times, what you were selling was mental or psychological in nature. Getting them to believe what would be best for you, and to see what you wanted them to see. It was an art he had honed in a past life, convincing people not simply to purchase the products he had for sale, but that it was their idea in the first place. Since doing so had become not simply a career but life or death, he'd only gotten better at it.<br/><br/>Here, he strode into the waiting room with all the confidence of someone who owned the entire building, if not the entire planet, dressed in clean if somewhat faded civilian clothing that spoke of nothing so much as 'nondescript', and leaving the HSF soldier who had been assigned as his escort (and who had somehow ended up towing Sebastian's luggage cart for him) to hurry along behind. He paused in the doorway and cast a brilliant smile across the others assembled, eyes sparkling in a perfectly sculpted face.<br/><br/><strong>"Luck is a matter of perspective, personally. I certainly feel lucky as can be, and in the company of such skilled and lovely people like yourself my luck can only be getting better. Call me Sebastian - a specialist in clandestine acquisitions and transportation, you might say. Also a somewhat capable air-jockey if the need calls for it."</strong>