After successfully navigating Sacramento's traffic and finding a spot to park his silver grey full size van, Adler walks down H Street. He wears his usual attire. A white shirt, held up by suspenders, under an old tweed jacket that smells of mothballs. His shoes don't shine, his wool slacks are sort of fold free.
He has been looking forward to this night. Out of all the kindred he has met in Asa Clarke's domain over the past few months, his blonde cousin seemed one of the more agreeable ones. Of course, it helps that they are family, of the same covenant, and round about the same age. A rare combination, to be sure. Tonight would be the first opportunity to see if appearances matched reality.
As Adler approaches the corner of H&9th Street, he checks the contents of his leather satchel one final time. Everything thing seems to be there: notebook, fountain pen, mobile telephone, car keys, a small gift. He looks around to see if he can spot Chase Ankers .
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