[color=007236][b]Brian Maxwell[/b][/color]

Brian's chauffeur opened the door of the sleek black limousine as it sat in the drive outside the restaurant. Brian stepped out into the cold night air cane in one hand, hat in the other. With one fluid motion he rested the hat on his head before checking his suit.

'How do I look Marc?' he asked his driver, his strong south-English accent making him stand out amongst the half-dozen American diners coming and going from the restaurant's entrance.

'Most excellent sir' replied Marc nodding his head and shutting the door to the car as he did so.
'Now you're not just saying that because I sign your pay cheques now are you?' Brian laughed.
'Of course not sir' Marc replied jovially, 'any idea when you'll want me to bring the car back around?'
'I'm afraid not Marc, I'll make sure to give you plenty of notice.'
'Alright sir' said Marc getting back behind the wheel of the limousine, 'oh and good luck sir.'

With that the limousine drove away leaving Brian stood outside the restaurant quite alone. He was well dressed, maybe a little too well dressed, but he always preferred being over dressed to being under dressed. He walked up to the front door of the restaurant, the marble steps leading to the front door evoked a triple clack as he walked, his shoes and cane clicking smartly as he walked.

Once inside Brian admired the décor. The room was dark; reds, blacks and golds seemed to make up most of the colour palette, with the odd dash of white thrown in here and there for good measure. Ornate lights hung from above most of the tables, around which all manner of well dressed people were laughing and chatting quite at their ease.

A waiter came up to Brian, who'd been stood in the entry way for at least a good minute by this point. 'Can I help you sir?' he inquired, the drawl of his American accent snapping Brian back to the moment at hand.
'Yes err yes,' replied Brian trying to regain some composure 'I'm looking for someone, name of Arna I was hoping you could check the booking for me?'
'I am sorry sir but we don't go giving out the details of our Patrons, that's just our policy...' the man stopped talking as Brian held up his wrist and showed him the ink. The man's face distorted for a second as he considered his options.
'Alright sir, I think I can make an exception if that's the case. Let me check the records for you.'
'Thank you' replied Brian nodding his head and following the waiter to a small podium atop which was a booking ledger.

Whilst the waiter flicked through the pages of the ledger Brian looked over the guests again. With a thought he activated the binary interface chip and suddenly a swarm of data swam inside his head. Text messages, emails, photos and more flowed around him. He sifted through it trying to find what he was looking for. He knew what she looked like of course, a man with his resources and his determination it'd be more exceptional if he didn't know. As he picked through the data he found what he was looking for, a photo that matched what he already had stored away. [i]Definitely here then[/i] he thought to himself.
'Here we are sir' remarked the waiter snapping Brian out his thoughts once again, 'She's at a table upstairs would like me to?'
'Can you get me a table on the same floor?' replied Brian as calmly as he could manage, 'Oh and send over a konyak if you would' the request added as what seemed a prudent after thought.
'Err yes sir um if you'd like to follow me please' the waiter took a menu from the podium and led Brian up a flight of wooden stairs. The decor of the second floor matched that of the downstairs. Brian followed the waiter his eyes fixed on the man's course through the chairs and tables. He only looked away once, and that was when he saw her in person for the first time. A small blonde haired woman elegantly dressed sat with what Brian assumed to be her mother. He averted his gaze lest people thought he was staring and sat down at the table the waiter had led him to. Taking the menu and laying it on the table he took a slender black notebook from inside his jacket and unclipped a silver fountain pen from his front pocket. He tore a page from the note book scribbling on it before handing it to the waiter. He took a $20 from his jacket pocket handing it to the waiter after he looked confused by the note. 'Please give that to Mrs Arna, there's a good chap' he said by means of an explanation. The waiter pocketed the bill before folding and placing the note in his top pocket.
'Of course sir' he nodded, 'I'll have someone bring your drink over.'
'Make that two' replied Brian.
'Of course sir' smiled the waiter walking over to one his fellows. He pointed back to Brian and then nodded before walking over to Arna's table. When he got there he took the note from his pocket and handed it to her, before pointing back to Brian. Brian felt a sharp stinging in his wrist and he glared at it for a moment. Before accepting a pair of glasses offered to him by a waiter. He picked up one glass as he recalled what he'd written on the note, [i]Check the ink, Brian.[/i]