Frowning, Michael peered through the scope at the fire. No signs of major enchantment - so it probably wasn't a firetrap - and at the same time, an apparent complete lack of life nearby. It was, as far as things were, rather strange. Watching from the forest, his hood pulled up and his green cloak on, he lay in wait, beginning the drill all military men are well acquainted with - the one where they sit there, and wait. For as long as waiting takes.

It was, of course, really sodding boring.

As he sat in his position, deep within the woods, his rifle trained expertly on the spot they'd been told to meet at, it began to rain gently. Not a drizzle, too heavy for that, with droplets large enough to make your skin notice them, but also far too light to be considered proper rain. That kind of sweet spot for rain. It wasn't even terribly cold - the sniper in him made Michael feel like it might even be, under the correct set of circumstances, rather pleasant.

He peeked around the scope, adjusting his field of view, to see if there might be anything else around the fire he'd failed to notice - though that was as unlikely as he was old, which is to say, quite unlikely.

Michael glanced down at his watch.

The meeting was due to begin soon.

Hm. Give it another half hour, then bugger off. That's a safe margin.