(OOC: Some people just love to make an entrance, eh?)

Lucius Arvanus was bothered. He was a man of many talents and concealing his emotions was one of them, but he just couldn't be bothered most of the time; and so he walked into his employers office with a headache and a frown.

His footsteps were busking behind his eyes, this bothered him. His swords were haphazardly strapped to his belt, slapping against his legs and this bothered him even more. He normally carried them on his back but he had woken up late for the meeting with his new employer, the whore had thrown up on his shirt at some point that night and he had four minutes to travel a mile across town. Bothered doesn't describe it.

"How's life, Faralon?" He mumbled the words as he closed the door and moved to a chair in the corner, sitting down heavily with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. His chainmail tunic rustled softly on his skin, allowing him a brief respite from the pain in his head.

"You know, the problem with being what I am is that everything feels so much more.. well, it just feels so much more. I shouldn't have finished that sixth pitcher. That stuff'll rot your insides, friend, lemme tell you.. Oh Gods.."

Casting a sideways glance at the shady looking young man with the black hair, Lucius allowed a small smile. Keeping his eyes on the man he addressed Faralon Darel again.

"Is this him?"