Hood stood with arms crossed, a casual pose rather than one meant to be intimidating or judging. There was a moment's appreciation for the art of the vehicle; he could appreciate beautiful things, he just didn't have any need for them himself. Nor much interest in those that went out of their way to procure them, outside the depths of their wallets he supposed. He had little use for money of course, but it certainly made it easier to keep his cabinets and gun vault stocked and safehouses paid up.
The man that emerged from the vehicle sent up a few flags in the back of his mind. Tiresome. Flamboyant. Self important. But, he had to give some leeway in that respect; what he'd learned of the old codger meant the bastard had at least stood by his guns for a long time, and had weathered more than a few Russian storms.
He watched the old man stroll up the walk, the brief, probably honest display of age-related ache. Otherwise, nimble enough. Fit. Fit enough to run or survive a few hard hours of work, but probably too damn stubborn to actually run if it came to that. Probably part of Jaxen's reasoning for reaching out to him for the job to begin with. Also entirely possible the idiot had drawn up a bit too much trouble to be handled, knew it, and was throwing him into the fray to see if it'd get him off the shit's books.
"If Jaxen wanted me for the job, I highly doubt they're going to be sending a squad car around for you this time, Mr Oszkar." He moved a bit aside to let the old man reach his own front door. There was no offering of a business card, since Pervaya had nothing to do with Hood being there.
The man that emerged from the vehicle sent up a few flags in the back of his mind. Tiresome. Flamboyant. Self important. But, he had to give some leeway in that respect; what he'd learned of the old codger meant the bastard had at least stood by his guns for a long time, and had weathered more than a few Russian storms.
He watched the old man stroll up the walk, the brief, probably honest display of age-related ache. Otherwise, nimble enough. Fit. Fit enough to run or survive a few hard hours of work, but probably too damn stubborn to actually run if it came to that. Probably part of Jaxen's reasoning for reaching out to him for the job to begin with. Also entirely possible the idiot had drawn up a bit too much trouble to be handled, knew it, and was throwing him into the fray to see if it'd get him off the shit's books.
"If Jaxen wanted me for the job, I highly doubt they're going to be sending a squad car around for you this time, Mr Oszkar." He moved a bit aside to let the old man reach his own front door. There was no offering of a business card, since Pervaya had nothing to do with Hood being there.