Whoops, huge image
Ixidor apparently isn't quite as late he thought he would be, as he climbs out of a taxi moments later. Right in front of the home, and the other grouped mages. Too many years on the road. He could afford nearly anything on wheels that he could possibly want, but unless he decides to settle in Sacramento more permanently, he's convinced himself that it just isn't practical.
He'll probably start slow. Rental cars, or something.
The cabbie had allowed him to smoke, and is now getting a generous tip for it. Crossing the street now, the rocker holds a white fedora to his head against a brief gust of Autumn wind. It causes a slight jingle of the silver jewelry hanging down his front, like human wind chimes.
The familiar and pretty face of Ariadne gets his attention first, which he greets in the form of a wave at distance. He is still silent as he ambles closer, and takes a long drag from a cigarillo to form a pause.
It's as though he's forming a dramatic silence in order to herald his words. But when the salutation comes, it's given in his usual, casual drawl.
"S'up?"