[@Patches]
[@Yomojo]

Isambard obliged, stubbing out his cigar on a piece of slate that suddenly appeared in his hand. [color=f7941d]"My apologies, my good man,"[/color] he said, following the younger two UM members into the meeting room. He sat down in one of the chairs, pulling a small leather-bound notebook out of a pocket in his suit jacket and placing it on the table in front of him along with a pen that had until recently been in his breast pocket. The cigar, now cool, was placed inside a small case and thrust into a pocket in his trousers, so as to keep his clothing - immaculate despite the work he usually did - clean of ash.

[color=f7941d]"Pray tell, is there a primer as to why we might be here?"[/color] He asked finally.