[center][h1][color=#357302][b]Chatterbox[/b][/color][/h1][hr][img]http://i.imgur.com/7Mz7tz0.png[/img][/center][hr]
Already in his guise as Chatterbox, which, if he was being honest felt more like the [i]real[/i] him than his civilain identity, Drake Vettman headed for the Icehouse. His mind whirring, his voice humming a tune going from minor to major notes, giving it both a gleeful, but haunting melody that bounced and jumped around in an almost sporadic rhythm, Drake marveled at how the time had passed since he'd been invited. While he'd seen his other... [i]teammates[/i] he still found it rather annoying that he'd had to promise to make them immune to his wonderful little addiction. Or, well, not [i]his[/i] addiction, not in that sense, but it did belong to him, in its way.

Arriving, Drake opened the door, using the key to open the one room he'd yet to be in, only to find it already unlocked. He smirked, it appeared his [i]compatriots[/i] had already arrived, not that they deserved such a title in the least. He predicted that at least two of them would either be idiots, or be useless and that was stacking the odds in their [i]favor[/i] really.

He smirked at the thought, closing the door behind him and locking it. It appeared everyone was assembled, including the Broker himself--who had only seen on one other occasion, when the man had convinced him to join up.

He glanced at the coffee and took a cup, taking a sip, an amused grin on his face as he watched the others. They all seemed relatively still, though one of them had apparently opted out of the coffee, [i]fair enough,[/i] he thought at that. Then he noticed one of his [i]allies[/i] staring at him, with an oddly lustful look in their eyes. His smirk remained as he raised an eyebrow at the fellow, or was it las? Hardly mattered to him, the individual was...something about them struck him as [i]off[/i] so he dismissed even the possibility of a fling--no matter how pretty they were. Plus, their gender was...questionable at best.

Crossing the room after several seconds of observation, Drake casually found a comfortable chair, picked it up, walked over to a wall, and then sat in it, leaning back till the back of the chair touched the wall, stabilizing it in its tilted position. He crossed one leg over the other, still smirking, and steepled his hands in his lap, waiting patiently to see what this [i]Broker[/i] had to offer them in the way of jobs.

He was sure he hadn't justified his alias yet, nor made much of an impression, but often when a crowd was anticipating a good show, three would be chatter--the curtains still closed--and then as the lights dimmed and music began to play, everyone fell silence. He was treating this interaction as the silence before the show, he was building anticipation. He hoped they'd come to appreciate the fact that he wouldn't be overtly manipulating any of them...at least, not with his voice that was. He almost chuckled aloud at the thought.

[color=#357302][b]"Well bossman, we're all here. How about we get this show started, mmm?"[/b][/color] he said, his statement the equivalent of the music starting.

The curtains were still closed.