@shootinghooks
Fingers brush lightly against smooth mahogany as he waits, the dim flicker of a candlelight illuminating usually darkened eyes. Brazil had never been a location that he’d desired to explore - he was only here at the behest of a new partner in crime - but even the most undesirable of places look more palatable after a glass of whiskey and the promise of long-term power. She’d quoted the need for secrecy as a reason to meet so far away from their choice of target, and Talbot can appreciate the need for remaining covert.
There’s still certain possessions which remain smuggled on his person - the blade that never left his side; the matches that burn down buildings in his wake; and the the arsenal of magic tricks brimming at his fingertips. If he’s fortunate, none of them will be required-- at least, not yet. But one could never be too careful. When the empty seat at his table is suddenly occupied by an attractive, evidently prestigious woman, there’s no doubt as to who she could be, and he flashes a stereotypical PR-worthy grin in her direction (after all, it’s much harder to others to see his bared teeth when the attention is instead brought to million-dollar smiles and silver tongues that aren’t laced in poison for once in their lives-- he trusts her, but not their company).
❝-6 o’clock exactly. Your punctuality is impeccable. ❞
He could definitely appreciate her flair for the dramatic. As she extends her hand in greeting, he holds it with grace, his lips gently making contact with her knuckles for the briefest of moments-- no matter how their relationship may eventually turn out, the least he could do was greet her with chivalry on first meeting; such is the way of being a gentleman.
❝I imagine we’ll get along just fine.❞ A member of staff loiters without purpose nearby, and Talbot draws their attention towards him with a quick gesture, but not once does he break eye contact with his accomplice. ❝Care for a drink, before we start discussions?❞
