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Moments passed and the last member of their supposed group showed up. Seemed like the bulk of them were pretty punctual, which, the thief supposed was good. Meant she could gauge if things were getting fishy if people were “running late”. Still, the smell of cigarette smoke nauseated her. Who the fuck smoked cigarettes anymore? What was this, 1956? She hoped none of the other members of their supposed crew had any habits as archaic and disgusting as that.

[color=D8A416]“Vos.”[/color] She managed for her own introduction, [color=D8A416]“Don’t think the old man is the type for meatspace interactions.”[/color]
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