Edgar had learned long ago not to take most young people to heart in terms of their attitude. He remember when he was their age back in the early 1800s. So vibrant and full of wonder and energy, and not a small amount of backtalk. Strange how time changes you, mentally and physically. He finished his coffee cup and took his leave, setting the cup in the sink before heading out towards the hallway and into his office. 

Inside, there was a strange multisection desk that made a half circle where he set his various work peices and books of study. Behind that was a dias atop a small raised platform for ritual readings, and to no one's surprise the walls were covered in bookshelves filled with books from across humanity. Here he kept his most prudent items for combat or scrying, or anything that might aid in investigatory work. He liked to keep things on hand. The teleportation stone could only do so much so frequently after all. 

Within his carry on bag he grabbed seven tomes, two of which he had written himself. Alongside them was his Shillelagh, slipping into the bag and somehow going beyond the fabric's dimensional diameters. Closing it up, he opened a drawer and placed on his hide travel belt, strapping on a wondrous mixture of items that could easily be disguised from the genuine public with a simple spell. Potions and alchemical supplies mostly. 

Once he exited the room, he met up with the others waiting for the cab. Anyone with any magical competency could see him decked out as a wizard of old; regal and proud and ready to conjure and dispell demons. But to any passerby, he was a humble homeless elder, who had not showered in a week and like as not eaten since then either.