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After Sam's explanation, this mission seemed a lot easier. So far. All for easy missions and wearing casual clothes sans a hunter coat, Otto turned and left to get ready.

The teen arrived after Shiloh did, dressed in his fall attire, since most places outside the islands might be cooler.

Sam was waiting for them at the lighthouse dressed a lot nicer than everyone else. She was idly adding another coating to her nails when they arrived. "Oh, I thought you guys were going to bail." She gestured towards the open portal. "Portal's that way, I'll be there soon. Just find a spot and don't get caught."

Yes, it was a good thing she gestured towards the portal, because there was no other way to tell the direction of a massive glowing ethereal-blue doorway of mystery.

Fortunately the other side was a lot less mysterious. It seemed for some reason, that they had ended up in a restaurant, out of all things. As the last person stepped through the portal, they simultaneously stepped through the door of the rather fancy french restaurant titled Le Bistro, the door ringing closed behind them.

The attendant blinked at their arrival, most likely judging them for their clothing before recovering and pulling out five menus. "This way please, for your reservation."

Behind him most tables were occupied. There was a large lookout glass window one direction, giving an impressive nightscape view of the city lights outside, in whatever location they were in. The lights were mostly dim, and there was the flicker of noise, of people talking, glass wines clinking, the low murmur of background conversation combined with the rich aroma of food. Most likely, expensive food.

They walked a fair bit until they got to one of the nicer tables, one that had direct view of the windows. It seemed the restaurant itself was situated rather high up, as the buildings below them did look rather tiny. There were several tables to the left and behind them, all occupied, mostly couples talking romantically to each other.

"Your waiter will be with you very soon." They nodded politely after placing the menus on the table and left, leaving the four alone. Well, four and one empty seat.

Sam looked out of place in her formal wear, and while Shiloh noticed the difference in her attire and theirs, he didn’t think to think anything of it.

He should have.

They arrived at the restaurant, amid the sounds of clinking china and the gabbing of patrons and Shiloh knew at once they were underdressed. Despite appearances, Shiloh had, in fact, been to this type of restaurant on many an occasion, though he’d never enjoyed the distinct ‘rich’ flavor that pervaded the air, and his senses. His jeans and sneakers were entirely a faux pas, and he could practically hear his mother’s gasp at the thought of him entering such an establishment with pink hair. That made him feel a little better about the whole ordeal, and deciding to make the most of it, he settled down into a chair and after nodding hello to his fellow hunters again, picked up the menu and began glancing through it.

Shiloh rolled his eyes, after making sure the waiter had left.

“What do you guys think,” he began with an unusually sarcastic tone. “Pressed foie gras with green apples, turnips, watercress and smoked duck, or the ‘Grouse lightly smoked in heather with ceps baked in chestnut leaves, rainbow chard and cromesquis’? Don’t they both sound delightful?”

He didn’t sound delighted.

Otto had become irritable as he'd waited for Sam. For anything. He tapped his foot, tapped his fingers on his arm, tapped at anything at any given time. The fidgety drummer hated the fancy restaurant and all those who frequented it. He gave Shiloh a look. A disgruntled look. "None of the above. ********, I bet even the dirt under the table' got three figures...."

Sam returned, with a guest. The look the man gave them and the sweetly condescending tone Sam used to explain them made Otto curl his lip. Forever the child, or the midget. What he wouldn't give for a late growth spurt.

"Sounds complicated." He grumbled in a bratty manner, flicking at a fork on the table. "Maybe if ya'll had told us to dress fancy, we wouldn't look like sore thumbs, Sam." His head rolled to the side to give the woman the sassiest glare in his repertoire.

"Fine, whatever.." He mumbled, sulking. Cause that's how adults deal with it.

"FF---" Otto went red, jolting slightly in his seat as he head turned quickly to glare at Gale.

There was no time to ask by whom--

From the way they'd all dressed, it was pretty apparent that they had either been expecting someplace a bit grungier, or that quite possibly none of them had ever set foot in a fancy restaurant even half as fancy in their entire lives. Both of these were true for lucky in particular.

"Cromesquis? That is not francuski, that is polski," he pointed out, more to himself than anyone. He wasn't homesick, but the culture shock of the island still made him feel like an outsider. Gale and Otto looked pretty grim at all times, and Shiloh - well. Maybe it was better not to get attached. He didn't look at the menu very carefully, not after he'd given the prices a cursory glance. He resisted the urge to ask Shiloh about food allergies, and looked out the window instead, letting his thoughts wander to the portal technology that had brought them here.

Sam's arrival (complete with mystery guy) made up for the awkward silence and then some. Something was definitely up.

"But--" Were they all just agreeing to murder people?? Something about this wasn't right, and the life hunter looked a little out of his element.

Not that he was one to talk, wrestling with the idea of offing the guy sitting next to him just to sat his curiosity about the bigger picture. Murder was becoming a fact of life pretty quickly, and it wasn't a good thing. He had to give Sam at least some benefit of the doubt. She knew what she was doing. Right? At the very least, defending her wasn't being fully complicit in whatever she was going to do. Maybe the two shorter blonde guys could handle that part. He was with Shiloh on this one. "Uh, yes, ve can protect you."

Shiloh rolled his eyes at Sam, thinking her work ethic left something to be desired. That, and he was still a little sore about her lack of notice about dress code, though thankfully people had started to settle back into their meals, preferring, it seemed, to pretend that their table didn’t exist at all. It was preferable, anyway, as the group in question had finally arrived, their contact moving with them and looking frightfully nervous. He kept casting looks their way, but Sam was too enthralled with texting. Shiloh couldn’t imagine what Caelius could have to say over text, though he supposed he wouldn’t want to make the Death lead wait on a reply either, no matter what the message said.

Shiloh had agreed to nothing but making sure Sam stayed safe, and he held off on intervening against anything else yet, watching the group next to them carefully. Mimicking Otto, he nudged Sam’s leg from underneath the table, and jerked his head in their neighbor’s direction.

“They’re here,” he pointed out casually, poking a fork at his food. His voice lowered. "Do you really plan on making them disappear? Isn't that a little... counterproductive?"