Silas still needed to wait for the Faire to finish, so he sat on a bench outside the Four Seasons Hotel. He looked around to see that nobody was looking and pulled out a packet of cheap cigarettes. He was prideful and didn't want just anyone to see he'd bought the cheap stuff.
He lit one with an equally cheap looking lighter and sat to have a smoke whilst he waited. He was in clear view of the bulletin board.
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Brandon strolls up towards the hotel, changed into some blue jeans and some sturdy-looking boots. He has a backpack slung over one shoulder. He nods to Silas, finding a space upwind of the cigarette, and settles in to wait. "You expecting many folk to come along today?"
Johnathan arrives at the hotel, his bundle from earlier today under his arm. He has changed out of his fair clothes, back into a dark shirt and pants. He greets the others with a nod.
Silas quickly put out the cigarette on the bench and smiled, getting up. He had managed to procure the rapier on his way out and it clanged againest the bench as he got up.
"Hello there, I do expect quite a few people to get here soon."
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Pulling up in his Jeep, Marcus spots Silas and Johnathan waiting with a third, unknown changeling. He glances at his ax and Army-surplus rucksack before striding over to his fellow Hedge-hunters, nodding to each in turn. "Silas." "Johnathan." He stands before them wearing hiking boots, military green cargo trousers, and a grey henley with rolled-up sleeves. Extending his hand, he addresses the demonic-looking changeling, "Hello, I'm Marcus."
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Taking Marcus' hand, the demon grins. "Hey, how ya doing? I'm Brandon," he says. "Pleased to meetcha." He whistles, visibly impressed as he looks Marcus over. "Very nice, very nice," he says. "Hope you don't mind me saying, but that's a hell of a look you've got there. With the metal, and all."
Silas smiled.
"Well Brandon, you can continue flirting after our expedition, can't you?"
He looked to Marcus and greeted him.
"Do you know of anyone else who will be joining us?"
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Gristlefist knew he wasn't late when he saw the group of Changelings standing around - they were dressed practical and looked as if they were waiting for the action to beginn. He himself put on one of his cheaper leather jackets, so that he didn't have to worry about the jacket getting ripped and carried a small pouch with him.
He took a closer look at the others as he approached them and wasn't really suprised that he recognized no one. How long has it been, after all, two years? More? Didn't matter. He raised one of his big hands and smiled to greet everyone and when he was near enough to talk in a normal voice, he looked at everyone again. "Good evening. Are you the people who want to go looking for Goblin Fruits? I'm Gristlefist."
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"Whoa, hey," Brandon says, backing up, shaking his head at Silas, and holding both hands out in a "stop" gesture. "I wasn't... no. No, man, you got me wrong. It ain't... it ain't like that," he finishes with a mutter.
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Slightly nonplussed, Marcus answers Brandon, "Thanks... one 'hell' of a look you have, yourself." Unsuccessfully suppressing a grin at Silas' quip, he informs the Manikin that he is only aware of those present. "Were there any more posts on the bulletin board?" Marcus is certain that Silas has checked it. Despite their brief acquaintance, the Metalflesh can tell that his new friend is not one to neglect details. Turning at the approach of the Ogre, Marcus is struck by the contrast between the brute's appearance and his dignified manner. "We are indeed." With a nod, he raises a hand in answer, "Marcus".
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