Tug awoke to a brand new day, his very first thought, culled from the half-remnants of a dream he can't remember, was that today might be the day he found the Banishers. He grinned at the sun, still rising itself. They can't hide from us forever, he assures it. Quietly, to avoid waking the rest of the Neidan, Tug slips into the Hallow room to toughen his muscles and sinew until they were hard as iron for another day before heading out for his morning jog. It was a bit different here than the suburb he had stayed in with Falx- this neighborhood was filled with other large houses, too large to be houses, really, especially with all the lawn in between. Estates was more like it. Intermittently, Tug stopped along his route to do some quick-twitch push-ups, or ab crunches, once to leap up from the sidewalk, grab onto a sturdy tree branch, and do a quick set of pull ups.

It wasn't easy, coordinating dead drop pickups with tailing a member of the Consilium. It meant Henry's surveillance wasn't as slick as it should be, and he ended up almost missing Tug's departure. With my luck, he'll start dashing at full speed. Luckily, the larger man didn't, and Henry was able to follow. Hidden in his cloak of anonymity, the Epopt went, ducking out of sight or doing his damnedest to look inconspicuous at each of the Sentinel's stops. It wasn't always easy, this early in the morning, but Henry had always made the best of what he had. And so he did, merely watching the younger man go about his morning exercise routine. Dammit, this can't be all. There's something missing.

Just as Tug was breaking into the wind sprint portion of his morning run, he notices someone following...watching... Could be a paparazzi, maybe. Or a fan. Or...

Banisher. Tug continues his jog a little further, so that he's close to a yard, with all its plants and bushes and trees, and to alter his perceptions so that he can see the pulse of magic about him, before he turns to confront his follower.

"Lookin fer an autograph or somethin?" Tug rumbles, narrowing his eyes at his clumsy shadow, looking for the presence of spells, and shifting his weight to his back foot, preparing for a fight.

As Henry sees Tug prepare for what can only be a dead run, he starts running the city's layout in his mind. There was no way he was keeping up with a professional athlete, and he knew it. He could, however, take shortcuts, if only he could predict Tug's course.

Those preparations, however, are interrupted by the Arrow's Supernal weaving. Paradox-inducing Supernal-enhanced physical exercise? That's new. Does it mean the Arrows have become careless about the Abyss? Does it mean...?

But that reflection is interrupted by Tug's rumbled question. Damn it. Run? Approach? Damn it. There wasn't a choice, not really. Henry walks out from the minimal cover he'd managed to get between him and the Arrow, as non-threateningly as he can, and answers with a simple, quiet, "Not really." Is he about to offer what he is doing here? Apparently not.

Tug almost breaks into a grin as he recognizes the Epopt. He steps forward a few feet, still leaving plenty of room between the two men, still reasonably close to a yard which, for a Thyrsus, is the equivalent of an arsenal. "Henry," he says, not using Awakened titles out in the open, "what the hell are you doin' followin' me, man? So early in the goddam morning, too. Ya coulda just called if you wanted a meeting."

Henry shrugs, stopping when the Sentinel does, facing him. A hand in his pocket, he answers, matter-of-factly. "I'm not much for phones. Besides, I like this time of day. Quietest time for a walk." And for various pickups and dead-drop points. He nods back towards the street, and away from the garden. "You have a few minutes? Walk and talk." The Epopt's brain starts to cycle through the subjects he wanted to broach with someone, anyone, for something appropriate to the Sentinel. He was confident he'd find one. It just wouldn't be his favorites, that's all.

"Nothing like morning in California," Tug agrees, breathing deeply of fragrances. "Alright. I'd rather you call next time, though. There's a war on, pretty much. We all gotta be careful." Even as he says it, he scolds himself for not casting his Sight before leaving the house. "But you know that better than anyone, I expect," the big man grins. He turns to start walking down the sidewalk. "So what's on your mind, sir?"

Henry gives a small, almost inaudible chuckle at the whole 'being careful' line. 'Careful' was an understatement. He moves to fall in side by side with Tug, angling the both of them along the mostly empty sidewalks. "The K's place," he says in an almost-whisper. "I wanted to give you condolences in person." Because everyone knows that's a perfectly legitimate reason to follow someone through the streets. "And get your impressions. That day, that attack. I was late to the briefing, but I was wondering : Who planned it?"

"Thanks," Tug says quietly, not meeting Henry's eye. "Uh...me and Animus planned it. West approved it. Why?" So many things had been done wrong once they got in, but but the initial plan had been sound, as far as Donnie was concerned.

Henry's head turns towards Tug, then just a little bit further, to look over his shoulder. Noone back there. At least, no one visible. Focusing on the road ahead once more, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a half-finished pack of cigarettes. Pulling one out for himself, he holds the pack out to Tug. "Call it professional curiosity", he says without a hint of emotion. "How long in advance did the Arrows prepare?"

Professional courtesy? What the hell is Henry on about? Tug makes a disgusted face at the cigarettes. "Are you kidding? Do you have any idea how terrible those things are for you? That's so gross." He quickens his step to walk ahead so the foul smoke doesn't taint his perfectly pink lungs. "Anyway. I dunno. It was a few days ahead."

Henry shrugs, and puts the pack back into his jacket. A moment later, out comes a lighter. A few moments later, he's inhaling smoke and letting it out in a lazy cloud. "Helps to calm my nerves," he answers. Which, considering Henry's usual demeanor, means the cigarette is very good at what it does, or the Epopt is joking. At Tug's answer about the assault, Henry shrugs. "Alright. Thanks. Had to know." A pause, another puff of smoke. "How are the Arrows doing?" He asks, of course, but he knows the answer, at least in good part. Make people think you don't know. Then they underestimate you.

Tug shrugs. He's starting to notice the Epopt never really answered his questions. "The Arrows are same as ever, sir," he says, making sure to stay ahead of the fuming cloud. Not as many of us, Tug thinks to himself, thinking of all the faces he never sees at the Circle anymore... "Anyway. Kinda glad you caught up with me, I've been meaning to talk to you about something." Donnie turns big and gives Henry that winning smile. "I can trust you, right?" he laughs.

Henry keeps on taking long drags, listening to Tug talk. Sometimes he missed the days of normal talks, and of actually giving and receiving straight answers. Fortunately, those moments of lunacy quickly subsided. "Good to hear," he responds to the news about the Arrows. He turns to look at Tug when the Arrow starts to talk about how glad he is Henry is around. That doesn't sound good... Nonetheless, he gives the big man a chance to talk. Concealing the creeping dread he feels at the exact words being used, he replies to Tug's large grin with a small half-smile of his own, and the words, "Of course. If you can't trust those who ferret out threats unseen, who can you trust?" It's not clear if the question is a joke, or invites an answer, though the deliberate tone seems to indicate the former. "What's on your mind?"

Tug chuckles at Henry's joke. At least, he thinks its a joke. He isn't sure. "I'm leaving the Neidan. They're great guys, and girl, singular," he laughs, "but I'm feelin' kinda third Shaman around there, y'know?" Heheh. That's a good one. "Anyway. You're well-established in this city, Henry. I don't know most of what you do, but I think you have our people's interests at heart." He stops and looks at the Epopt, not even making a face at the smoke. "So do I. I think we should work together. And recruit a couple others. What do you think?"

Henry stops at the same time Tug does, turning to face the man. He starts blowing his smoke to the sides, taking the opportunity to look in both directions regularly. He looks puzzled for a moment at the news of Tug's news of leaving his cabal. Why? The thought runs through Henry's head. It takes him a few seconds, but it clicks. It all clicks. He wished it didn't.

He keeps cool enough to chuckle at the other man's joke. He's tempted to push Tug, to ask, and ask, and ask. Why, why, why? But he doesn't. Instead, he puts on a thin smile, and offers, "That sounds like a plan." A short moment of silence. "Cards on the table. I've had a similar talk with Spade. Or Rosh, or whatever." He brushes away the confusion of names with a wave of his hand. Followed by another long drag, and another stream of smoke. "If you don't mind working with him, I'm sure we can find a way to make us all stronger in unity. Work for you? I cetainly have nothing against it." Could it really be that easy to snare a Guardian into a Cabal? Maybe it is.

The big guy grins wide. "Awesome. I'm gonna talk to Ash, too. The bad guys don't stand a chance, what?" He has himself a laugh to cover the queasiness he starts to feel once he thinks about moving into Kruegan's Sanctum. Could he live in the same place that...and what about Tom? Would he be alright there?

But maybe he's looking at it wrong. The place needed to be defended or it would fall to the enemy again, and who better than someone who knows better than anyone what could happen if its captured again? Maybe...I'll have myself a go at that torture room when I get hold of those bastards...no...but it sure is fun to think so. "I like Spade," Tug says, derailing that train of thought in a hurry, "do you think he can get his balls back from Ruby first?" he smirks.

Henry's smile at Tug's enthusiasm is but a faint mirror of the other man's. Apparently 'wide grin' isn't part of his repertoire. "Sounds like it. Talk to Ash, we'll work something from there. But don't get too excited just yet. There's a condition." Anyone who knows Henry, or the Guardians, could probably guess at the requirements. Abominable crimes against humanity, murder, material links, information about associates. "You don't call me Lone Ranger." The faint half-smile doesn't budge an inch.

"As for Spade," he says, stressing the name. Apparently he likes it too. "recent events have hit him hard. Either Ruby will be good for him, or she'll break him like a twig. In either case, someone else around can't hurt him. So in a way, yes, I think he'll get his balls back. One piece at a time." Wow. That was probably his longest speech in a very long time. "Once we know who's in, we'll figure out where we can meet."

Tug shrugs. "Lone Ranger? I don't get it." The Thyrsus is impressed as he listens to the Mastigoi's insights into Spade's psyche. He was really just trying to get a laugh out of the guy, but apparently Henry had given the Obrimos quite a bit of thought. "He just needs a double-you. I know the look, I used to play for the Raiders, y'know," Donnie laughs. "Alright, I'll talk to Ash. If he's in, we'll set up a meeting between everyone." He grins at Henry. "How do I get a hold of you, anyway?"

Henry looks at the larger man while he talks, weighing... something. The thoughts behind the facade turn like little gears, almost visible. Then, surprisingly, he accompanies Tug in his laugh at the Raiders joke. It's a much more quiet laugh, subdued. But still, a laugh, right? At the Arrow's question, he replies, "What's the standard line here?," he asks as though he were really wondering, "You don't get a hold of me, I'll get a hold of you, or something like that, right?" But however much Henry would like that to be the way it works, he knows it isn't.

He reaches into his jacket pocket, and quickly rips out a small blank sheet from his notepad. Another small motion, and he has a pen in hand, scribbling away at the paper. "Here. Leave a message," he says as he hands Tug the sheet of paper, with a hastily scribbled 'H' above a cellphone number.

"Cool. Take care, Henry." Donnie pockets the number and holds his hand out to shake the Guardian's. "I'll be in touch soon."

A brief moment of hesitation, and Henry's hand meets the Arrow's for a firm shake. "Sure thing. Be careful, and I'll talk to you soon." And, with one last smile from the corner of his mouth, he turns to head off.

As each goes back to his own world, the implications of such a short 'chance' meeting have yet to become obvious to either. Though at least one of them has a plan.