[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjBhNzU0ZC5SR0ZwYlhsdmJpQk1iMjVrWlEsLC4wAAAA/dr-sugiyama.regular.png[/img][/center]

The possibility of meeting an insider right off the bat was slim even in optimistic calculations and thus Daimyon was neither too surprised nor dismayed when it turned out that the man—Cyrus Brandon, the Infinite Politician himself—was pretty much walking in his shoes. Which would not have been that bad—Daimyon led a good life and wore comfortable shoes—were it not for all the questions and uncertainties that currently plagued him and everyone else. Everyone else, for there were many people in the general vicinity, a fact that aside from the steadily growing sound level the various figures coming into view also confirmed. The first one to approach the two men with certain direction was a girl, for a change.

Actually, no he was not. Daimyon knew exactly who he was from the picture displayed in the elevator, yet was still fooled from the distance. The boy hopped, skipped and jumped over to them with glee like a child to his parents. The poet felt inspired to record the occasion with a few lines but his hand was taken by the arriving boy before he could have reached for his notebook.

[color=SeaGreen]“Hi!”[/color] Daimyon said with a bright smile, answering the passionate handshake. [color=SeaGreen]“You're Caora, right? The pleasure is mine!”[/color]
He considered being able to relax in a stressful situation a vital trait and Caora seemed to have exactly zero worries about what happened so far and what was going to unfold in the near future. They would get along well, he was sure of that. Nevertheless, he made a mental note—to be recorded in writing later, for it was very important—to never fall for the trap again.

[color=SeaGreen]“I think we should find more people.”[/color] He turned back to Cyrus. [color=SeaGreen]“It's better together, especially if we're in trouble.”[/color]
He looked around to find an actual direction and give some merit to his words. Caora was long gone, he noticed, no doubt enjoying the adoration of others by now. They could have followed her, perhaps...
[color=SeaGreen]“That-a-way, if we may.”[/color]
He eventually decided against it and instead pointed to the left where he saw a smaller congregation.

[color=SeaGreen]“So, how did you get here?”[/color] He threw a question at his newfound partner while they walked. [color=SeaGreen]“Aside from waking in an elevator after sleep...”[/color]

Once they were there, in front of some elevators and a couple locked rooms, it became apparent that there were four people gathered around—hardly a ‘congregation’ but a good company regardless. Full of exciting personalities, no doubt!

Taking a peek in his notebook beforehand, Daimyon then cleared his throat to make his grand entrance:

[center][color=SeaGreen][i]A wanderer approaches with a friend
As fast as a free runner? I don't pretend
I don't come walking down from Broadway,
Not from a good day's shift at a café
Won't even mention the Perfection,
Though I did come here with affection.[/i][/color][/center]

Things like syllable count had long stopped bothering and limiting the Infinite Poet. Sometimes he even let go of rhyme, though in this case he found it easier to stick to a well-established form.

[color=SeaGreen]“Hello, people!”[/color] He clapped his hands together. [color=SeaGreen]“I hope you found this little verse to your liking. I'm Daimyon, at your service!”[/color]