[centre][h2][color=B22222][b]Michael Liam[/b][/color][/h2][/centre]
[hr][centre][i][b]Saturday, 4PM. The corner of Williamsburg and Bushwick, Brooklyn[/b][/i][/centre][hr]
[indent][indent]He stood across the street from the warehouse and watched its entrance, feeling cold sweat tickle down from his armpits. His heart was beating rapidly and from the depths of his mind a voice was shouting at him that he shouldn’t be here and that he made a mistake by coming. The whole thing smelled of Fae shenanigans and in spite of the pledge the Marquise made nothing stopped other members of the Gentry to come and try to take the Arena champion for themselves. But still, that piece of paper intrigued him and his curiosity outweighed his paranoia. 

Michael came here earlier than 4PM – the time written on the note that so mysteriously found its way into his hands – so he could snoop around the place and see if there was anything suspicious about it. After spending an hour wrecking his legs walking around, watching every rooftop and alley like an idiot, he concluded that at least outside there was nobody waiting in ambush. That is at least what he told himself. 

However, when he returned back to the warehouse he saw a tall pale monstrosity enter it, which is why he was now hesitant to do the same. Now, he knows he himself isn’t the prettiest sight, but goddamn was that thing eerie. It also posed a question: was that a Fae, another changeling, or something else? The thing was not trying to be particularly stealthy about entering the warehouse and it also came at 4PM, so maybe it is in the similar predicament as Michael… 

Well, only one way to find out. 

Before he began crossing the street, Michael pulled the baseball bat out of his backpack and gave it a swing. If that thing wasn’t intent on being friendly then it will feel shitload of pain. Michael totally wasn’t being paranoid and on the verge of bolting from this street, this county and this state. No sir. He was just being [i]precocious[/i]. 

Once across he slowly opened the door, his bat ready to bludgeon the first even remotely hostile-looking thing he laid his eyes on. Fortunately, no violence was necessary at this point in time. The creature he saw enter the warehouse earlier was sitting on a chair, looking every bit as nervous as Michael felt, which eased his tension a little. Still, he didn’t lower his guard and letting the warehouse door close behind him he pointed at the creature with the bat and spoke: 

[color=B22222][b]“What- [i]Whatareyou[/i]?”[/b][/color]

[i]Jesus do I sound scared shitless.[/i] His voice broke after the first word and the rest of the sentence came out like a blurred mess. It was a question if the other... person even understood him correctly, but Michael didn't feel confident enough to repeat himself if he absolutely didn't have to. 
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