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Greg had the shipment finished and packed sooner than he had expected, giving him a few extra minutes to get to the airfield. Well, it wasn't exactly and airfield, or even a field. Greg's current, and favorite, bunker was located in Uzbekistan, on the former shores of the now mostly dried up Aral Sea. It was a nice and isolated spot. Most of the local towns had gone abandoned long ago, leaving nothing but vast stretches of ghost towns, and ghost ships, for miles. Granted, it was a b***h to get to, but you could do almost anything you wanted to out here, and nobody would ever know. Hence it being his favorite. Well, that, and the atmosphere. There was something about being surrounded by vast desert, dead towns and fleets of rusting, beached boats that filled him with a sense of awe. It was a short drive across the desert to the airfield, a long, flat, sturdy stretch of desert near a fleet of abandoned ships, which made for convenient fuel and supply storage. His contact was on time, as usual, It was a long flight, especially considering the plane was prop-driven, and designed to carry large loads long-distances. Beggars can't be choosers. Loading the shipment on board, Greg promptly decided to catch up on sleep. He tended to be late to meeting in the North American continent. Partly due to the distance, and partly due to the fact he was still branded a traitor by the U.S. government. He wasn't very high-profile, but it wouldn't surprise him if he was still on some agency's watch list. Hence the need to land at a smaller, local airfield outside New York, and drive into the city. But that was still hours away, and sleep had finally caught up with Greg.




(( Sort of short post, but based on rough calculations, Uzbekistan to New York is about a twelve hour trip, probably longer. Needless to say, Greg will be late to the party. ))

"It's fine, dear." Smiling, Snow beckoned to the loveseat for her to sit, and sat down on the couch next to it. "That's the meeting I was invited to attend." Snow said, frowning at the mention of Vincent. "He is quite.. Strange. Honestly, I think he should just disappear. But, he wouldn't be a bad ally to have I suppose."

Vincent continued to mill about New York's streets, until he found himself (quite by accident) standing out in front of the UN building. Since it was later, there seemed to be no one there but guards. If any protesters had been there, they were gone now. He stood there, watching the building, and smirked a little. "It took me three years to participate in almost as many conflicts as you were involved with for a hundred. Men like Romeo Dallaire shook hands with the Devil, and you sat back and played pacifism like five year old's playing the recorder. And do you offer any excuses? Any apologies? Any justification? No. No, you pass judgement off to someone else, so you don't have to deal with the guilt. You sleep like babies because you sold your souls. I sleep like a baby because once you see the worst humanity has to offer, it either breaks you, or, gives you nerves of steel. Not sure I'm happier with either." Vincent went quiet after his monologue to the building, sighing and shaking his head after a moment, and kept walking.

A while later, Vincent found himself walking down some random street of New York, where he passed by some kind of coffee shop. It looked full of 'those' kids. Young college age folks who had beards, glasses for no reason, and got 'involved' in all kinds of 'social movements'. One of them glared at Roberts. "We don't serve murderers here." The man scowled. Vincent chuckled a bit to himself. "What kind of phone do you own boy?" He asked with an air of challenge to himself. The young man seemed taken aback a bit, before answering. "An Apple smartphone, I won't buy from psychos like you!" Vincent nodded. "So you won't serve me because I kill bad men, but you're fine owning a phone that was brought to you in part by child labor?" The young man seemed a little dumbfounded, and couldn't respond. "Right, well I don't do business with people who support child abuse, so have a nice day." With that, Vincent walked off, feeling a bit of fire in his spirit.

Finally, a cafe of sorts popped up in his sights again, this one a little less pretentious looking. He walked inside and headed over to the counter, looking over the TV menu boards behind the workers, seeing what he wanted. Vincent walked up to the counter, deciding he'd get an Earl Grey (his personal favorite), and was met by an attractive, and younger looking black girl. He flashed a rather friendly smile, and she returned it. "You're not going to try and assassinate me or anything, are you?" Vincent asked half jokingly. "Only if the pay is good." She responded, a bit playfully. He smirked a little in response. "Well, just watch the news sometime. I'm sure you'll find plenty of clients who'd pay well." The girl looked behind Vincent, and noticed his face in the news. she smiled a bit and nodded her head from side to side. "You certainly make a lot of friends Mr. Roberts." She said with a somewhat odd look on her face, almost like she was playfully chastising him for being 'reckless'. "And who would you be?" He responded. "Friend, foe, or somebody looking for money?" The girl smirked to herself. "I'm just a cafe waitress, who's seen enough evil and good in the world to know what grey is." Vincent turned his head to her and studied her for a moment, before he cocked a bit of a smile, perhaps an impressed one, or perhaps just amused, but certainly he appreciated what she said. "Now, what can I get you Mr. Roberts?" She asked, playful smile lingering on her face. "Just an Earl Grey, two sugar." He replied with another smile.

Sitting down at the table, Vincent sipped away at his tea for a bit, going over in his head what to do about the UN, occasionally making eyes with the black girl at the counter. When he finished his tea, he figured he'd had enough time on the streets for tonight. He wanted to go back to the hotel, relax, and go to bed. The UN meeting would either be tomorrow or the next day, so he had to be ready. Vincent took his mug over to the counter and handed it to the waitress. "Thanks for the tea, I'll be sure to come back and visit, so long as you aren't planing on killing me." She smiled back at him. "I make no promises." He smiled and nodded. "No one keeps them anyways. Have a good night." Once Vincent was gone, the waitress would notice the napkin in Vincent's mug. It had his cell number on it, and $50 hidden in it. There was also a note he wrote on it; 'Whatever they're offering, I'll double it.' The girl blushed a little and slipped both the napkin and the money into her pocket. Even if she didn't text or call him, it certainly would make for an interesting memory.

Truth be told, this was hardly the first girl Vincent flirted with, not even close to that, and most likely it wouldn't be close to the last. Many men had their vice, this happened to be his. Still, as he walked back to the Ritz, he did feel a bit energized. It was good to feel like a real person sometimes. Once he was back at the hotel, he set about getting himself relaxed for the evening. Most likely he'd go to bed soon, but he'd see where he was at in a bit.

(OOC: Queue to move onto the next day if and when everyone is ready, just tell me if you are or are not. If not, maybe he'll head out again or something, I don't know I'm just a cat. gonk )

(Later the same day, or the next day?)

(Well, at this moment, I'm assuming it's closer to the evening already, so if you'd like to go ahead with receiving and working on one of the suits, you're more than welcome too! But we shouldn't push to the next day just yet, till everyone's had a chance to post or agree to time skip. But you can still go ahead with working on the suit if you're okay with doing it this evening instead of the next day.)

"Dangerous? Yes. Bad to have on your side? No." Snow ran his hands through his hair as he spoke, his aquamarine eyes returning to a maroon red. "However, the man is a pompous a**. I would prefer not to associate myself with him if I can avoid it. I don't agree with some of his views and I would rather place my hand in acid than - " Snow stopped midsentence when Ana came in, standing by the door quietly. "Yes, dear?"
"Er.. I've just received word that Vincent Roberts is in town." Smirking, Snow nodded and glanced at Leila.
"Thanks, Ana. Go home." Ana smiled softly and walked back to her desk where she grabbed her purse and laptop, shut off her desk lamp, and stepped onto the elevator. "Shall we pay Mr. Roberts a visit?"
(( Also, I was thinking of an encounter between these three, possibly before the UN meeting. However, if you would rather do a time skip, that's cool to. ))