[h2][center]Geralt of Rivia[/center][/h2]
[center]Midgar- Sector 8, Detroit [/center]
[center]Lvl 9 (164/90) -> Lvl 9 (165/90) [/center]
[center]Word Count: 517 words[/center]

[@Dark Cloud] 

While the others looked around, explored, and inquired with the civilians about Desporhado and Armstrong, Geralt took a different approach: stand in one spot, be quiet, and listen. Leaning against a tree and closing his eyes, Geralt listened to the conversations around him, of passersby who thought their admissions one of many in a sea of voices. Biological enhancements and years of training allowed Geralt to pick out individual voices, but all in all, he didn't learn much other than that Armstrong was a fairly popular candidate for election. All in all, it seemed that they wouldn't be making many friends if they ended up going against the man, or his followers in Desporhado. That was a given, but knowing that popular sentiment was against them was still something. He made a note of the strange, glowing indentation in the road, but didn't approach. Not knowing that Link had fought and freed Cerberus from there, he wasn't willing to risk anything by checking out something so obviously magical, his medallion humming just a bit when he turned its way. And if he [i]did[/i] know, he might have left it be until they were well and truly ready to leave. Especially not before dinner.

Joining together with the others at the pizzeria, Geralt gladly partook in the greasy, hot, fatty deep-dish pizza, sauce staining some of his beard a light red as he ate. He listened to the others, but his attention was well and truly on his food, his stomach seemingly endless to an outside observer, as two and then three pieces of pizza disappeared into his ravenous maw in the time the more sedately-paced members of the Seekers could eat a single slice. 

Geralt wasn't the first to notice the G-Men, but he was quick to grab a napkin and wipe down his beard, sauce and grease staining the cloth such that he needed to grab a bunch to really clean it out. 

For a tense few minutes, the Turk and his G-Men just...sat there and ate. Calmly. The G-men kept up their pretenses, though many of the other patrons seemed a bit more hurried in their presence. The eldritch creatures weren't something anybody wanted to mess with, even if they were all bunched up in the back corner of the place. 

When he was finished with his slice, Zenkichi waved the G-Men on, standing up. [color=BFBFBF]"Alright, boys, head on out. I'll catch up in a minute.[/color] Casually making his way towards the Seekers, he regarded Benedict with a short nod. [color=BFBFBF]"Lieutenant Pascal, fancy meeting you here. And with the fabled Giovanna, no less. There something I should know about?"[/color] 

By all means, Zenkichi looked like he was truly just having a chat with a co-worker, but to Benedict, who'd known the man a while and worked with him before, he was as ready for a fight as ever, and with a Persona up his sleeve, he could give the Seekers a run for their money even in such a crowded place, if not [i]because[/i] of the close proximity and cramped quarters.