Receiving no response to his noisy entrance, Saito gave an exaggerated sigh. 

[color=00aeef]“Tough crowd tonight, huh?”[/color]

He stacks the pizza boxes on a common table. They precariously balance on top of the assorted clutter. Retrieving his share, Saito reclines back on a battered couch and passes the time digging into his dinner.  He finishes just as Mr. T begins the briefing. 
Saito was bemused that he was conducting yet another extraction job. [color=00aeef]<This is almost becoming a daily grind>[/color] he thought to himself. 
Hopefully, this target would walk on his own power. That said, if a team of armed Ronins weren’t persuasive enough to turn Mr. Howard into a team player, Saito had a few drugs to encourage him. And if all else failed, he would just let his stun knuckles have the final word. (The word being BZZZzzzt-HNNNNGGGH)

[color=00aeef]“Hope Mr. Howard doesn’t have a heart condition,”[/color] Saito chimes as he rolls the credstick between a handful of sparking, prosthetic fingers. [color=00aeef]“Nevermind, I better go find out myself.”[/color] He would have to trawl through several medical databases and sources, some less legitimate than others. But when 100,000 credits depended on the CEO’s wellbeing, Saito figured better safe than sorry.