"Around the corner".
Our eyes meet in the rear-view mirror and I nod absentmindedly. Rather, my attention is drawn by the blurring streets and the unfamiliar reflection of the man staring back at me through the passenger's window.
God... how did I get so old? There are white streaks in my hair and a clutch of chicks must have colonized the space under my eyes. I'm not vain but...
"I'm aging quicker than the President", I deadpan and pull another Marlboro from the pack. My partner chuckles.

The caucus is held in one of the abandoned warehouses lining the harbor. As I step through the gates, punching my security code into the keypad, my sixth sense alerts me of active will-working; whoever is monitoring the Wards has recognized us.
It's hard to walk those corridors and not think of a colony of cockroaches working in the shadow of the Lion, trying to suck the marrow from the bones of whichever carcass he has left. Everyone in this State hates us - ourselves included - but at the same time we offer the community a valuable service. It's an arrangement that works.
We follow the corridor until we reach the meeting hall. There, standing in his humble chair in the middle of the room Master Kairos awaits, his warm nimbus suffuses the room with righteous might, but his eyes speak of a kind sadness. He might have spilled more blood than the dozen of us in the room altogether, but I still revere him as a gentle grandfather and a mentor to us all.
Under those old yellow lights he looks more tired than usual, but his smile doesn't falter. I move in to offer my greetings at last, kneeling in front of his chair and bowing my neck down.
It's then that his wrinkled hands move away from the decorated eggs on the table and quickly grabs me by the shoulders. His grip is strong and he leans closer to my ears to say something. His tone is solemn.
"Of course, thank you", I reply back.
We had a discussion a few days ago, about the spinning of the Wheel and our duty to put other mages first, especially those who stray away from the path of Wisdom. Right now, I would have expected him to quip back with one of his salacious remarks.
Instead...

Hours pass in idle banter and gossip about the latest Consilium. I'm out of sync and Tiphereth can read my distress.
But the night is still young and the meaning of the convocation lies still unspoken and there's a lot of free food courtesy of the Chorus.

Kairos means "right time". Funny for a Mighty bearing that Name to rely on something so primitive as random chance. But he always has us draw lots when he needs somebody to go on a mission, that's his style. A Gray circle, the story ends, you wake up in your bed. A black one, you go down the rabbit hole.

Tiphereth draws, she's the sixth.
Gray.
She gives me a seductive wink and a fist pump cheer.

I'm Seventh. I grit my teeth.
Focus.

I move closer to the urn.
Those weren't eggs, right? And he does indeed look a lot more tired than usual.
Connect the dots.

I draw mine.
"Hmpf"