[center][color=Gray][h1]Whetstone[/h1][/color][/center][hr]The decker regarded Tenno as he was addressed, that gaze unchanging even as his rumination was disrupted, alongside the compiling he was doing on their mutual target. “Whetstone. I would suggest if you want to make money in this business, and more importantly keep your head, you should take a look at who you will be working with before a job.” He would propose, his tone genuine. The gooseflesh under the ballistic-weave suit informed him of what he could guess, that the young man was a mage. He could almost admire the audacity, but his visage suitably conveyed his disapproval.

“I can speak for us if you all would prefer it, but I think my skills will be more valuable in locating our target.” Whetstone's voice resonated with truth as he used his free hand to make a flicking motion, sending the 3-D shaped head based on projected aging alongside found obituaries and school records to each commlink in the plane cabin. “I don’t care if you can pull your weight; if anyone here couldn’t, they wouldn’t be on this plane.” His words were like iron as he spoke, yet not a word rung as a lie from his lips. “I care if you can be a professional, and not let your personal life get in the way of the mission.”

Those steely cybereyes would keep the digital wraith in his periphery. CAPT's message would be met by his own, the courier typeface reading almost as dry as the whiskey in his hand. 

[I'd be glad to coordinate with you. I run silent and stay that way.]

As the Schmidt replied Max would give a slight nod, asking no further questions. The scenario rising in his mind as he continued to scour public databases for more information. He had faked a few deaths in his time, falsified dentals were a classic method. It wouldn't be hard to make a convincing scene, even through forensic technologies and magic. The real question rattled in his mind as he took another draw of whiskey.

[i]Who helped Abigail fake her own death?[/i]

He was certain that any rest he would get would be shrouded by this central question, and he would have to dig deep to theorize. He would not be quick to feed this information up to his handler, for all his corporate loyalty, there was a shifting feeling he felt beneath his skin that this was something more than a lower-key job that he has gotten himself into.