Three Bottles

[Reeves]

A marching beat of five people closed in, blended together seamlessly since the quintet remained synchronized and in-step with one another. Four of the five were visibly armed and armored, fanning out once inside this evidently not-so humble establishment. This allowed the easily identifiable man at their center to stroll over to his intended table and seat himself. Once that had happened the honor guard took up positions near the table, facing away from the three here to no doubt talk business of some variety. At least in that respect their presence was hardly threatening and more an assurance that this meeting would not suffer from third parties.

"You look terrible." It was the first thing Damien decided to say, and it seemed as if for now he was choosing to ignore the "contact" until the mutual acquaintance at the table introduced them. Purely for the sake of formality, of course. For a Commander of a terrorist movement that engaged in barbaric displays on a daily basis, he appeared to be in good spirits on this occasion. A pleasant and almost disarming expression on his face, and a dress uniform to denote him as being the elected representative he truly was.

A part of his mind did wander and consider what to order, depending how long this meeting was going to last.