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[center][h2][color=#406f40]Joel Shcroeder[/color] [/h2] [/center]
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Location: Alistair Apartment 6B Patio/Town Center
Interacting With: N/A
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Saving the document, he shut his laptop happily, satisfied with his work for the day. Taking a final slow drag from his pipe, he lifts his ankle to rest on his knee and taps the pipe-bowl against the sole of his shoe, emptying it of any remaining ash. Then, after placing the pipe, tobacco, and matchbook back into his pouch, he stands and returns it the his pocket. He then picks up his laptop, and walks back into his apartment, setting it down on his nightstand. Sliding on a light, black sports-coat over his plain white button up, rolling the sleeves to a few inches above his elbow, and collecting his keys as he walks back out the door.

Checking the time on his pocket-watch, he opts out taking his bike to the meeting and wasting time trying to find a parking space. Instead, he begins to walk at a casual, yet quick pace towards town center. Noticing the steady increase of others walking in the same direction, he recognizes that he must be getting closer and closer to his destination. A few minutes and a cigarette later, he finds himself facing a crowd of others packed into a relatively small area. Making his way to the front and past the separation tape, he finds his reserved seat, his last name on a neatly folded piece of paper resting on the padded chair.

Pulling his phone from his pocket and raising the brightness to see past the glare, he opens a browsing app and directs his way to a forum, his personal favorite, in which different forms of symbolism are deciphered as requested. Skimming through the various threads, he finds one lacking an image, titled "Apocalypse?" in bold, red letters. Opening the board, he scrolls through slowly, taking in the responses and submissions, including several "Ancient Symbols" that a trained eye such as himself would easily recognize as fraud.

Sighing gently, he locked his phone and returned it to his pocket, and pulled from another his pouch. Holding the pipe in one hand and the tobacco in another, he began to pack his pipe [i][color=#406f40]First like a baby, second like a women, and finally like a man. [/color][/i] he thought to himself, reciting a very common and useful mantra used by many as a reference of how to pack a pipe. Taking a few tester puffs to make sure the tobacco wasn't packed too hard, or not enough, he pinched a small bit of tobacco onto the top of his pipe, and lit it with a match. Puffing quickly, he watched until the entire surface of the pipe's bowl was glowing bright red, then used his thumb to tamper down and extinguish the burning tobacco. After the thin wisps of smoke subsided and the tobacco was almost entirely extinguished, he draws out another match and strikes it, lighting his pipe for the second time and taking slow, thoughtful drags. The profile of the tobacco was heavy, dense, with a few subtle spices to improve the flavor and release a sweet and warm scent into the air around him. 

Running his eyes over the forming crowd, he heard bits and pieces of various conversations and gossips. Out of the dozens of people mingling into the crowd, a beautiful young woman stood out to him, her eyes seeming to shimmer. With a quizzical expression, he focused on her to try and take in any minor details that might set her aside from the others she was walking past. As he focused, everything surrounding her seemed to dull and darken, and the volume of the chatter got smaller and smaller, until he could barely hear anything anyone was saying, as if he had earmuffs on. Barely paying attention to the pipe in his hand, he began to stand, compelled to approach her for unknown reasons. Suddenly he felt a strong vibration in his pocket, snapping him quickly from his trance. Sitting back down, he took a slow puff from his pipe as he opened his phone and saw he was getting a call from a number he barely recognized. He answered, connecting the call to the small, almost impossible to notice bluetooth earpiece. 

[color=#406f40]"Hello, Dr. Schroeder Speaking, how can I help you?"[/color]

[i]"Hello professor, my name is Christian and I am the head secretary for the Cornell board of directors. I'm calling on their behalf to check in and make sure that you have arrived in Washington, and that everything you should need has been accommodated." [/i]

[color=#406f40] "Oh, thank you Christian, and yes, I've arrived as scheduled and everything is going smoothly. Please let the Board know that my apartment is very comfortable, and that I thank them for their funding of this expedition." [/color]

[i]"That's very good to hear Professor, though forgive me if I speak out of term, but I believe it is us who should be thanking you. It's very comforting to know that if anything can stop the end of the world, you are there to find it." [/i]

[color=#406f40] "Ends are rare Christian, and new beginnings are much more common."[/color] He said with a light chuckle, taking a short puff of his pipe. [color=#406f40] "Do let the director know that I received his Email, and I will be alerting him of any and all valuable findings, have a good day Christian." [/color]

[i]"And you as well Professor, good luck."[/i] The gentlemen on the other end added, before ending the call.

Joel returned his phone to his pocket, grateful for the manner that professional phone calls tend to follow. Direct and concise, with little room for unnecessary information or awkward and prolonged endings. Sitting back in his chair and resting his ankle on his knee, he waited patiently for the "meeting" to begin.