[center][img]https://i.ibb.co/3Y7hfx2/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746fsmall.jpg[/img]
[color=00aeef][h2]Jason Locke[/h2][/color][/center]

	"You'll won't be able to hit the target head on," Eric explained.  With dark brown hair that flowed to his shoulders and a scruffy beard that decorated his face, Eric looked like a tall, slender patchouli aficionado.  Dressed in dark jeans and a buttoned up collared maroon shirt, he was a fairly unintimidating individual but his reputation certainly preceded him.  He dealt with the all sorts of the city's scum and they all respected him as being an untouchable source of income.  If there was a job, he was the one who made it happen and also the one who picked the team to do it.  

	His blue spectacled eyes looked intently at a short, plump man who could easily be mistaken for a human hedgehog.  The latter had enough body hair that outer clothing was strictly worn out of societal expectations.  He could survive the winter in his birthday suit without issue.  The two of them were looking at a collection of pictures that were scattered over the felt of an unused pool table in the middle of a dark, hazy bar where there were no walk-in patrons.  The Alibi was a bar for Yeojin's seedy individuals, providing a place for them to network and consort.  "The glass is going to make it one of the toughest grabs anyone has ever been tasked with pulling."

	"What glass?" Jason entered the room in a half jog, raising two fingers to the bartender across the room, greeting her.  "What did I miss?" Eric looked up to the young man, his face looking stern.  The furball with him grimaced as Jason approached, clearly not happy to see him.  Jason's approach slowed to a walk and eventually halted completely as he scanned the table and glimpsed over all the pictures, his eyes zoning in on one of a decorative hour glass.  "What's that?"

	"You missed your deadline," Eric answered, annoyance in his voice.  "And [i]that[/i] is no longer any of your business.  I don't work with amateurs and if you can't even get to a briefing on time, why would I trust you with a job of this caliber?  You snooze, you lose, Locke.  I'll call you when I get something else."  The corner of Furball's mouth raised into a crooked smile as he clearly relished in Jason's humiliation.  Eric turned his attention back to him and placed a burner phone on the table.  "Wait for my call and we'll hit the finer details," he continued, ignoring Jason's presence completely.

	"C'mon, man, I got hung up.  What's the job?  You're not seriously going to pick the Tasmanian Devil over me, are you?"  Jason looked at Eric with a sense of confusion and slight disbelief, nearly scoffing at the possibility.  Eric's eyes were answer enough; he shot Jason a look that wordlessly said [i]You fucked up and this is what happens[/i].  After a beat, Jason switched tactics.  "Eric, you know I need the money, bud, and you know I'm equipped to do the job better than this asshole... (No offense)."  At that, Furball took a leading step, his mouth curled in a snarl as he looked nearly ready to swing on him.  Before it could get much further, Eric placed his hand on Furball's chest, calling for him to cease.

	"Locke, you're probably right," Eric digressed before giving Furball a crooked shrug, "But this operation needs to be executed meticulously and-"

	"Okay, great!" Jason shouted with glee as he extended his palm toward the burner phone on the table.  With a force of will, the phone leapt from the felt and into his hand... and then out of his hand... and then bobbled in the air as Jason performed an awkward, clumsy juggling act in his efforts to catch and secure the device.  Finally, he managed to wrap his fingers around it.  He held it up with glee as if it were a trophy.  "Call me with the details!"  Eric just looked on, finding himself impressed, dumbfounded and embarrassed all at the same time.  Jason gave one more wave to the bartender before jogging back out toward the exit, jumping into the air and clicking his heels before shoving past the front door and into the street.

	Furball slowly turned his head to look at Eric, who could only give another shrug.  "Go magic that phone back out of his hand and we'll talk," was all the consolation he was willing to give as he walked back toward the bar.  Though he'd never let Jason see it, he couldn't help but smirk.