The First Age

"Well, she probably gets plenty of that shit there. A room full of rich children that fancy themselves predators. Suppose some of them are, in their own bull-shit worlds. Most of 'em figure themselves alpha males though. Usually like their women quiet and dumb. But probably a few that'll take to a strong, mysterious queen bitch."
Enzo's humour was met with a ghost of a smirk.

White was no stranger to the concept of a task taking years of leg work to arrange, but in his old life that work had been done by others, and he and men like him were sent in for the final dramatic finish. He'd had to adapt a bit since working with the Atharim; they often had just as much leg work that needed doing, and rarely the resources that he had been used to to achieve it. But he was an adaptable individual; it was how he had survived as long as he had.

"You'll need an expensive suit. Not something off the rack. Well, doesn't need to be a suit I suppose, but gotta be worth a fuck load more then what you're wearing now. Strict dress code. If it ain't a four-digit ensemble, it ain't getting through the door."
He looked Enzo over then shrugged, "Don't really have anything that'll fit ya, but I know a place you can get a good deal from. And you'll want a cover story of course. I can slap together an info packet for ya. Small talk B/S. ID's on the usual clientele. Anyone who goes to Manifesto should know who they might cross paths with."

A drakaina would probably seem mysterious to normal man. Enzo had no doubt the leech could attach herself to any number of individuals and drain them dry before they noticed anything unusual.

Mister White relayed a number of other suggestions that made Enzo's already thoughtful expression turn introspective. The clothing was something that worried him from the beginning after having searched for Manifesto on the internet. Their clientele were far more attractive individuals than he deemed himself to be. A cover story, fake identification, and information was also the sort of thing he had no idea how to obtain. His work with Corrado had never needed clandestine measures.

He could get the suit easily enough, and was greatful that the consultant provided an inside deal on price. Enzo always lived modestly, within his means, and the idea of using thousands of dollars to purchase one outfit was cringe-worthy. Yet his mother had not raised a country simpleton. He had the eye for expensive taste, simply never the stomach for it.

"Mille fois merci, Monsieur White."
He stood to shake his hand. "I will do as you suggest, and will remain in contact. I believe I did not catch your first name, sir."

Hood plucked a business card off a clip on the fridge, and stepped towards Enzo. He held his beer in one hand, and held the card out for the other; a likely sign that shaking wasn't exactly a necessary formality as far as he cared. "No, you didn't. And don't thank me. This is what your people pay me for, after all. Make an appointment. Let me know when it is. I can meet you there with your info packet."


The card was for a particularly high-end men's clothing store. Not one so expensive as to be graced by the same clientele as Manifesto, but maybe their most direct underlings. Or, at the very least, those underlings' underlings. Of course, the suit Enzo would be getting would be charged to Hood's expense account as a work related expense.

*The time and place of the appointment as requested*

Link to appointment thread