[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/b7d72d6e-ad00-4684-8eba-5e52ef2c5ca1.png[/img][/center][center][h3][i][b]H[/b]otel, [b]I[/b]nside | [b]A[/b]pril 14, 2012 (02:08 [b]PM[/b])[/i][/h3][/center]
[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_O1RgGjCBc][sub]♫ Baccano! OST - Manhattan Bridge ni Kakeru Yume[/sub][/url]

	The sound of a toilet flushing went off, coming from the bathroom connected to the lobby of the hotel that was the meeting point for those seeking the escort to Monsieur Bonaparte's estate. The entrance to this toilet would have been a short distance away from where Sonya was currently seated on the floor as she fed Dmitri, although not immediately next to her.

	After a short period of time - no more than perhaps five minutes - a man stepped out of the bathroom, carrying a bag of luggage in each hand and an oddball look on his face.

	The seemingly young man was generally unimposing, with a fairly average height and weight, and he lacked much in the way of physical characteristics that would make him stand out from an ordinary Eurasian man -- very clearly what he was if Sonya was to simply take a look at him. He had roughly chin-length dark brown hair - difficult to determine if natural or dyed - which was mostly straight and was parted into bangs that framed down both sides of his forehead, though there were larger bangs on the left side than on the right. His dark brown eyes had a pair of square rimless reading glasses covering them. He had an extremely slight amount of facial hair -- just a few stray stands around his chin that seemingly got missed during his last shave. His outfit consisted of a simple green T-shirt, with a pair of dark grey pants - worn with a black belt that has a silver buckle - and very dark brown dress shoes. A yellow overcoat was also worn over his outfit, which was left open and fell down to his knees. Worn around his neck, in a manner similar to a pendant with a long chain, was a silver pocket watch.

	`Alright, so... I'm not forgetting anything, am I...?` the young man thought, taking a few steps away from the bathroom entrance and placing his luggage down for a moment, scratching his chin with a contemplative look on his face afterwards -- not that his expression could be seen clearly with the light reflecting on his glasses.

	"... I think I'm good." he said in English, just speaking out loud to himself in the language he was most accustomed to people knowing -- English was, after all, somewhat universal in the modern era. The sound of his accent was [i]vaguely[/i] Swedish, but he otherwise sounded sort of indistinguishable.

	Moving the hand away from his chin and using a finger to adjust his glasses slightly, the young man took a look around the lobby and observed the people who were around him, mostly just contemplating how weird the whole situation was. He had chosen this hotel specifically because he knew the meeting point for the escort was outside of it. This was not due to having decided that he would definitely take the escort - he sort of preferred his privacy, and there was a lot on his mind - but rather because he figured that anyone who arrived in Paris prior to April 14 would most likely stay at this hotel to make arriving for the escort easier -- those who planned on taking it, anyway. It was the most logical option, so the logical reaction on his part - as someone who liked to be informed - would be to stay at the same hotel, in order to get a chance to see what he could make of the people he would presumably be spending a fair bit of time with for a while. This was all under the assumption that the way the letter was worded meant what it implied -- a 'gathering' indicated that [i]multiple[/i] people - not just him - were being called to this little shindig. Surely enough, he had done a little bit of internet browsing and confirmed rumours spreading about multiple people besides himself receiving a similar letter from the legendary 'Methuselah of Paris'.

	It all made sense on paper that people would come here, yet strangely enough the entire time he had been staying in the hotel he had not even seen [i]one[/i] person who looked like they might be one of those people invited. He had even struck up a conversation with several of the guests idly in the lobby on occasion, being relatively honest about the fact that he was one of the 'fabled guests invited by Monsieur Bonaparte'. Normally, he would not bother telling strangers something like that, since they did not need to know, but - considering how he wanted to be as informed as possible before arriving - it was a good strategy to make an exception. Still, while he could not guarantee it, he was fairly certain he had not met any of the other guests yet.

	Holding out his pocket watch for a moment, he checked the time...

	`Sixteen past two... That's not too bad.` he thought to himself, letting the pocket watch fall and dangle again a little as he looked around again.

	That was when he noticed a woman -- at least, he was fairly sure it was a woman from her appearance, but she was mostly turned around.

	From what he could tell, the woman almost seemed to be intentionally hiding herself as she sat on the floor in the corner of the room, almost looking like a beggar with that blanked draped over her like that, and the way she was staring at the wall made it stranger -- it was as if she was hiding something. He had seen some unusual things in his life, but this was probably the first time he had seen someone who looked homeless sitting inside of such a nice hotel, hidden away from sight. This never even factored in her ethnicity, which he could barely make our currently but from what he could tell she was a minority. She almost looked Arabian, but he could only see part of her face and shoulder.

	"Erm, excuse me miss," the man said casually, with a fairly relaxed tone in his voice, "you alright there...?" he asked politely, a concerned look on his face. He had walked a short distance to the corner of the room, carrying his luggage with him.