"Ed Burrell" had been burned, so Gilbert Henry had come to replace him. They knew him as Gil: Gil, the chubby office-drone whose mouth hung open like he was a cow, frozen solid halfway through another chew of cud. He looked a little dumb, and since he didn't speak so much, for all anyone knew, he was. He didn't even pay attention, really, to Blaque, as the darker, taller man spoke, despite being sheltered and fed by this person; as if they had never been business partners, and this was just another meeting in some corporate office, discussing sales projections. So why was he here? Vaguely people understood that he knew his way around a gun, and that just had to suffice. Cannon fodder; a movie extra never given a name or a romance. No named credit at the end as the screen went black.
He was looking at the bulletin because pedophile priests didn't interest him much. Their sex rings went deep, and that meant these men couldn't be killed; they had to be detained, questioned, turned against their bosses and their underlings and made to snitch. The entire root system had to be dug up, and that didn't sit right with a man who solved his problems by pulling a trigger. It was always too convoluted, too messy. So if Gil had the choice, he'd go for a simpler job; by himself if possible, but with a partner if necessary. It's not like his absence would be noted among the group, or for that matter, among the criminals they were pursuing; by the sound of things they had plenty of manpower already. Maybe too much! No, Gil played subtler games, so he browsed the catalog, leaving his back turned to the group at large. His shirt was baggy, and mushroomed at his waist.
"Bashing the Bullies" interested him the most. Again, he was categorizing jobs based on how discreetly they needed doing, and he liked to have options. He could kill these punks or he could spook them; snipe them or strangle them. Beat their little ringleader and scare the roaches back into the dark corners of the city. Yes, this was better than people who needed to be brought in alive, no matter what, or else the job was a failure; especially since these were commissioned by the cops, who always made things difficult with their bureaucracy and their tacky yellow tape.
"Burn the Kitchen" was a close second. He imagined this involving getting close to a dealer, earning some people's trust, following them to the lab to determine its location, all things he knew he was capable of. He had options, then. He could do either of these jobs alone, unless the boss insisted on sending someone along with him. So it was decided. Gil blinked, and smacked his lips. He looked around alarmed, like he caught himself dozing off, and someone had just said something important, and he missed it. That's how he introduced himself to the conversation occurring behind him, pretending to have lost track of what they were talking about and then found it again. Suddenly he was paying attention to people as they opined. Mainly he watched Blaque, waiting for his opportunity to speak to the man alone.
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