"Hello," Lenna said, from across the table. She looked at the mystery in front of her. A man who was a member of what once had been the Kabal. One whose name she couldn't find listed on too many missions, but one who she had worked with previously... alongside the Order.

A mercenary. Obviously. The mystery was the man's morals.

He was 5'10, tall, but not too tall. Slim, with azure eyes. And when he spoke, he had a British accent. As mercenaries went, he was not uncommon. She'd known plenty of pretty British boys in her time.

What would be interesting were his answers. That would set him apart.

"Tell me, Mr. Z. What have you done for the Kabal? And what loyalties do you have?"

The Kabal had undergone several changes over the years. During its initial inception the group had been a rather select and well paid task force more than capable of rivaling some governments. The factions goal at that time had been quite succinct; acquire power and influence, in order to acquire more power and influence. There had been no stipulations, no caveats. Simply an objective and the means to achieve it. Consequently, the Kabal swiftly proved itself to a rather effective unit.

In Zephyr's opinion this first stage had been, and still was, the highlight of the Kabals existence thus far. Sadly though the factions zenith passed shortly after the Registration act was rescinded and ownership changed hands, bringing with it a flawed, and far less profitable ideology, which constrained and even restricted a number of... methods, which had previously met with full approval. Inevitably, these changes caused things to fall into decline, most notably, the elementals own paycheck.

Indeed, circumstances had become so deplorable that the hessian had all but abandon the Kabals base of operations and sought more engaging employment from other sources. In fact it had been nearly a year since he'd received anything other than his token paycheck from Mondragon.

Yet he now found himself standing just outside the board room of Mondragon medical, a few feet from the adapted aura which emanated from the rooms sole occupant; a lithe brunette whose pale turquoise gaze seemed to be measuring him in much the same way he was her. Adapteds were not an everyday encounter, even in New York, and though a part of the hessian sought to try and place the oddly familiar woman, the preponderance of the elementals thoughts were focused on locating any additional negating aura's as his senses swept the remainder of the building from top to bottom.

Then, she spoke. In a light, almost flippant, cadence as she furnished him with a practicality puerile appellation and posed a question more suited for a quotidian office space than the current situation at hand.

In response the elemental simply offered the brunette a brief raised brow before replying in a civil yet faintly condescending tone. "I'm sorry, I appear to have missed the start of this conversation. My monicker is Zephyr, and you are...?"

The hair was a dirty blondish color, actually. She needed to get it dyed again, soon.

"Lenna." She replied.

She kept largely the same tone with her followup as she had with her initial question. No amusement. No drop dead seriousness. Just a loaded question. "Now. Can you tell me about yourself, and what you've done for the Kabal? And are you just a mercenary, or do you care about the Kabal's goals?"

He didn't have to worry. That last one was a trick question.

She sucked at tact.

The glib demeanor vanished almost immediately as the woman’s expression of duplicitous amiability rapidly shifted to a more deadpan visage. If that were not indication enough, her curt cadence and brief retort all signaled that the adapted was looking for nothing more than simple answers to her less than simple questions. Unfortunately though she’d chosen a rather poor approach, few people enjoy having questions abruptly thrust upon them, and even fewer appreciate having it done by abject strangers.

Zephyr therefore was not in the most agreeable of moods, especially considering that the answers the brunette wanted were not subjects he’d share lightly. If there was one thing an individual learned in his line of work, it was the value of keeping quiet. Still thus far it was just the two and nothing untoward had yet to happen, so he could at least try to be civil if nothing else.

“Simply to clarify,” he said, speaking with same slight supercilious cadence. “You want me to share potentially sensitive information when you’ve given me nothing more than a name. Is that about right?”

He allowed a few moments for his words to sink in and then followed with. “I’m afraid I’m feeling somewhat disinclined to acquiesce to your request.”

"You're absolutely right," Lenna replied. She didn't falter. This was a sign that this guy was more than one of your usual mindless mercs, after all. It was a good thing. It would be even better if he had no real holdings to the Kabal or Slate. That would be super. "I should give you more to go on. I've recently replaced Slate as manager of the Kabal. Right now, I'm meeting with people to speak about changes within the organization's structure. That's why I'm asking about your loyalties."

"There will still be work," She concluded. "If you don't mind working towards different goals than the ones Slate once held." And maybe if he was willing to work for the Order. Hopefully, he'd ask about that. It would be the logical thing to do.

With his attention still split between monitoring the facility for additional adapteds and the brunette before him, restraining a quizzical look at the girl’s abrupt agreement required a certain amount of effort. In his experience purported employers were rarely so… eager, to appease prospective subordinates. It was poor bargaining practice if nothing else. Still, far be it for him to enlighten his supposed ‘manager’ on the issue.

Shifting his stance slightly against the open door frame Zephyr closed his eyes and released a slow breath before allowing his gaze to rest back on Lenna with a dry expression which said much about the pervasive nature of asininity.

“I see.” He stated simply. “When precisely did this change occur?” He’d heard nothing from Slate for months, so while he did not doubt the boy could have turned over control, a precise date would allow him to calculate the amount of back pay he was owed for his imminent new pay grade. A rather more favourable pay grade if the discussion thus far were any indication.

On that note.

“I care very little about your goals.” They all tended to be the same in any case; some varying composition of money, power and repute. “If you are willing to pay for my services I shall provide them. I am more concerned with the nature of the work and how you intend to compensate my efforts; will you be keeping to the initial terms of my employment?

She ignored the 'when' question. What did it matter? And if this appeared to be poor bargaining, that was only because he was not familiar with her style. Which was also fairly new, and probably needed polishing. But whatever.

The fact he didn't give a care about goals confirmed her 'mercenary' suspicions. Yup. This guy was a merc with a mouth. All the other stuff she might have had to say did not matter.

As to the terms of his employment. "Please enlighten me. What were the terms?" Slate had not left her very detailed records.

"Five million base pay to remove any incentive to work against you, and an additional fee of no less than twenty five thousand for any task you assign me. All in American dollars and wired to a list of accounts I will provide."

He was stretching the truth just slightly with that, Antonescue had originally retained his services with an annual salary of three million and provided a bonus for tasks the elemental had completed. Slate however had taken the financial equivalent of a chainsaw to the Kabals budget and reduced the hessian remuneration to a mere six figure sum.

Still, there was little harm in asking for an elevated salary. It was a natural part of negotiations, and key to negotiations was always to initiate them from a position of strength. Generally that meant being the one who held the loaded gun rather than the one facing it, in these circumstances however information was a far better strength.

"Is that acceptable?"

They were negotiating now. And since they were, she could say it.

"I think that retainer seems a bit high."

From his dossier of jobs done for the Kabal, he didn't seem like a 5 million dollar retainer kind of guy. He seemed more like...

She'd start low.

"I think 600,000 sounds more fair."