Asp Avis Casitive Crowley Einstein Xander Ermac Mace Pepper Truce
Damascus stood before the barbecue clad in a pair of shorts, a teal t-shirt, and engaged in turning over a burger with a pair of tongs. To one side a series of plates, an opened box of craft beer and a covered salad bowl and an array of condiments and ingredients lay upon a wooden table. As did the copies of the Lex she’d brought to her last meeting, weighed down by empty glasses in the event that the wind decided to pick up. For now though, the flames of the candles barely flickered in the cool night air.
She glanced toward the door to the brownstone’s interior, wondering when the others would arrive and whether Crowley would be waiting downstairs to let them in.