[right][hr][color=gray][b]Falcon's Reach | Bar[/b]
March 27th, 2677[/color][hr][/right] [indent]

The man was busy reading something on his PDA. He'd been sitting there for [i]hours[/i] now, with an expensive bottle of whiskey beside him at the small wooden table and a small shot glass he continually refilled every so often. He'd not spoken to anyone in the immediate area, though many of the patrons had kept a wary eye on him. His hair was cut rugged and short, and his beard was slightly scraggly, but not too long. That was enough to set him apart from the usual aging waster, but what really made him stand out was his coat. Long, black and lined with synthetic fur, it looked completely out of place towards the roughshod and patchwork outfits many of the common people of Falcon's Reach wore. He exuded money, but his weathered face and lack of care around him also permeated another kind of energy: [i]danger[/i]. 

He seemed interested in a video feed on his device, something he kept close enough to his chest that no one was too interested in actually [i]looking[/i] over his shoulder to see. Instead, he was busy watching as three figures made their way into the command center of the settlement. He seemed to focus on one of the people walking out of the camera's view. His eyes widened for a moment, before turning into slits. 

[i]He grinned.[/i] [/indent] 

[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180328/161dbfb1e830dd8daf87025f0df6424e.png[/img][/center][right][hr][color=gray][b]Falcon's Reach | Command Center[/b]
March 27th, 2677[/color][hr][/right] [indent]

Alan had seen his fair share of rough faces and tired men in his lifetime; community leaders so far from the cities tended to age quickly due to the stress of raiders, poor supplies, general unhappiness and the sheer lack of comfort that came with the wastes. This...[i]leader[/i] was no different. Whereas Percy or Stein may have been uncomfortable with his ghoul-like features, Alan was comforted by them. 

The face of a leader who struggled was the face of a man who bore the hardships of his people. He'd been fucked over by enough round-faced and well-fed men in his time to know that it's the smiling man with overstuffed pockets that will have his people turn their guns on you without a second thought. [i]Then again, desperate men also make the same kinds of desperate decisions...[/i] 

Alan finally broke the silence by answering the man's sarcastic "enthusiasm" of the team. [color=808080]"Don't worry," [/color] He began, trying to sound as confident as he could.  [color=808080]"We'll be able to move a lot quicker and quieter than a full battalion. And we've held our in firefights in and out of our NCs. We'll do the job just right." [/color] [i]False bravado? Or just puffery to make this guy a little less worried that there were three cold bodies here with field equipment instead of the heavy support they had access to. It didn't matter. Do or die. Just smile, follow orders until the day comes to get what you want.[/i] 
[/indent]