Thread: Wicked Game

Veli. Why it would have him listed as Kael Veli, or where Vali came from, he wasn't sure. The most curious thing was how his alias got paired up with his actual last name but... if this was the woman that worked for Sam, he probably shouldn't be surprised that it was all out there somewhere. Available information he wasn't sure if that was frustrating or convenient. Someone had been bound to put the two together sooner or later anyway, it wasn't as though his facial scars were that inconspicuous. It's urgent but it can wait an - alright. He nodded along and agreed with the rest of it. Despite that, his initial impatience quickly got worse. The phone was down, and he got dressed, shoved his things away into what would on the surface appear a spartan neatness in his tiny apartment, simply shoving the messes that were into drawers or his single closet, jamming it in, shoving it all away, forcing the place to come off like he wasn't feeling tempted to smash it. Within five minutes, the pacing set in. In ten, he'd resorted to music to calm himself down. By the twenty marker, music had failed him as well, and he sat down before he could break anything. When Mei Lee arrived, the outside of the building would be as it ever was- colorless, and quiet, in good repair and resembling respectable only in that it was not dilapidated like a few of the other buildings seated in the Durem slum area. The first floor was a garage, locked down now, with a closed sign hung over the front, and a likely locked door underneath some old wooden stairs. Unless she planned to check the garage, that'd be her option- the stairs up to the second level, that looked like it could actually be a residence, no more decorated than the first floor of the building. When she knocked, she'd be informed through the door that it wasn't locked. And inside, well- The place was nothing to look at. Undecorated over all, empty wall and floors in bland gray colors that came cheapest, and a wooden floor low on furnish. Past the initial entry way was a single step up- two sets of wide-foot shoes left just before it- an empty main room with a single small table and chair, a TV that looked barely new enough to have color and practically small enough to take traveling, hooked to a similarly ancient VHS player- not even DVD. All of the doors to adjacent rooms were closed, plain wooden doors, some of the only wooden things that didn't appear to have been made by hands. Competent hands, but not ones that would find any profit trying to sell furniture. The man they belonged to was almost certainly the fellow with unkempt brown hair behind the bar-style counter of the kitchenette, a stool on the side facing the door much like the one he was sitting on, with deep scars wrenched down his left cheek, jagged and long, and other smaller marks hanging around his face, in a black muscle shirt that did little to hide the similar ripping-claw scars down his left shoulder. The right side seemed to have gotten off light in comparison, the smooth line under an eye half hidden by the bags there, little dot in the cheek hardly visible- only the notch out of his lip on that side seemed of much note. As if he had been waiting entirely too long to see her to do so, Kael tossed back a glass a shot of bourbon whiskey, and dumped ice out of a bucket on the table, filling his glass and an empty one on the other side of the counter with the stuff. You're early, He didn't sound displeased, but... well, he looked like he sounded. Tired and or frustrated, but trying to come off as personable- or at least businesslike- as possible. Eyes that in the dim light seemed almost red rather than brown watched her carefully.