Syrie
It had all been arranged over the internet: his delicate ‘tinkering’ with DMV records, setting up the sort of photos he would need from his client, the cost of doing business, and of course - where to meet to begin the final parts of their transaction, which required the pair to meet.
Pasi had contemplated meeting in a coffee shop, but felt that was too cliché - apt, perhaps since coffee shops were often densely populated public spaces that allowed for a greater safety when meeting an unknown, but cliché nonetheless. Instead he picked a local diner frequented by students of Destiny City University that would have customers regardless of what time of day his client wished to meet.
In this case, it was fairly early in the morning - around six - when they were supposed to meet; already there were students stumbling in bleary eyed and moving with all the grace of a puppet whose strings had been cut, mumbling tonelessly for coffee, for tea, for breakfast.
As he was meeting someone sight-unseen, the Finn had given a pretty good description of the shirt he’d be wearing (white with a deep blue ‘cross-like’ marking - the Finnish flag, in shirt form) but he’d also supplied the buyer with a recent snapshot so that they wouldn’t be fumbling around forever trying to connect. So he waited in a booth that was diagonal to the entrance, sipping black coffee and munching on a bacon and egg sandwich.
Pasi had contemplated meeting in a coffee shop, but felt that was too cliché - apt, perhaps since coffee shops were often densely populated public spaces that allowed for a greater safety when meeting an unknown, but cliché nonetheless. Instead he picked a local diner frequented by students of Destiny City University that would have customers regardless of what time of day his client wished to meet.
In this case, it was fairly early in the morning - around six - when they were supposed to meet; already there were students stumbling in bleary eyed and moving with all the grace of a puppet whose strings had been cut, mumbling tonelessly for coffee, for tea, for breakfast.
As he was meeting someone sight-unseen, the Finn had given a pretty good description of the shirt he’d be wearing (white with a deep blue ‘cross-like’ marking - the Finnish flag, in shirt form) but he’d also supplied the buyer with a recent snapshot so that they wouldn’t be fumbling around forever trying to connect. So he waited in a booth that was diagonal to the entrance, sipping black coffee and munching on a bacon and egg sandwich.
--
The worst part about moving to a new place was establishing the valuable connections Arkin needed to function properly. A close second would have been going to the DMV where the lines and restless crowds alone would have caused some major anxiety, let alone the presence of government officials. Plus, it was always risky getting the actual authorities involved with your fake persona: it was one thing to use it if he were being questioned by a cop and quite another to try it out on state paperwork.
Luckily he was more than capable of tracking down the sort of help he needed online, behind the safe anonymity of the Tor browser. Not that he trusted his new contact in the slightest, but at least he could meet on neutral ground. Not that he particularly wanted to go into the diner, amidst the clamour of early morning patrons: mostly students and professors on their way to early classes, or the elderly who came for the early bird special and the comfort of being around other people.
He’d told the vendor that he’d be in all black and carrying a messenger bag. Luckily the 90’s and 00’s were over, and it was no longer the style: young people tended to wear actual colors these days. Arkin arrived early so that he could eye the diner over from the outside, but he couldn’t spot the person he needed from outside. He waited to enter during a quiet moment which, unfortunately, meant that he was a bit late despite being there in plenty of time. Thanks to his position, it didn’t take Arkin long to spot the man he was looking for. He stomped over purposefully, glancing behind him multiple times as if to make sure he wasn’t being followed (he wasn’t).
He dropped down onto the bench seat across from the other man, putting conscious effort into keeping his eyes from darting elsewhere. “Alright. I’m here. Can we do this or do I have to wait for you to eat that?” He wasn’t big on pleasantries.
--
Syrie
Pasi watched several people coming in, the last of which was a rather alert looking guy in black carrying a messenger bag - just what he’d been told to look for - though he made no move to get up from his booth or any other such indication that he thought he’d found his mark. At least, not until the guy plunked himself in the booth seat across from the dour-looking Finn, at which point he raised a brow at the paranoid actions of his temporary client.
“You got the photos I asked for?” He dropped what was left of his breakfast onto the crumb-strewn plate and wiped his fingers and mouth with a napkin; Pasi didn’t offer to shake Arkin’s hand and instead picked up his coffee (already in a travel-safe waxed cardboard cup) and took a sip, waiting for the answer.
“If yes, we can go. If no, you can go get them while I wait.”
“You got the photos I asked for?” He dropped what was left of his breakfast onto the crumb-strewn plate and wiped his fingers and mouth with a napkin; Pasi didn’t offer to shake Arkin’s hand and instead picked up his coffee (already in a travel-safe waxed cardboard cup) and took a sip, waiting for the answer.
“If yes, we can go. If no, you can go get them while I wait.”
--
“Yeah. I got em’.” He hated that part of the process, but photo ID was a necessity. Should he run into the police he needed a passable identity and an out-of-state license often made people too interested. He pulled his bag up into his lap and shoved a hand in without looking, retrieving the envelope he’d placed on top. He held it across the table and waited for approval.
ID photos were never particularly good and (if possible) Arkin’s made him look even grumpier than usual. At least it was recognizably him, which was the important part. “How long is this going to take?” As if he had pressing matters to attend to-- He didn’t. Arkin just hated relying on anyone else for anything, though he knew that he needed to create a reliable network of contacts in his new hometown. With that in mind Arkin gave himself a mental chiding.
“I mean… It doesn’t matter. Sorry. It’s just crowded here.”
--
Syrie
Pasi nodded at Arkin, reaching out to take the envelope so he could double-check. He’d learned to verify things were as they should be before trying to get to work - not everyone was as thorough as the paranoid-looking guy before him. The pictures would suffice, suitably unpleasant looking as all ID photos tended to be, and he put them back into the envelope, sliding it to one side where he would not forget it accidentally.
“I’ve got everything prepped, but putting it together takes a couple hours.” The snappish tone was noted, but barely warranted a raised brow; the Finn was used to working with less-than-desirables and those that couldn’t be patient. “A lot of work goes into this s**t, I’m small time here.” It wasn’t even his main source of income - tinkering and his youtube channel were. “You can either come to my place to wait, or we can meet up again later. It’s up to you.” Either way, he wasn’t bothered - this guy was paying pretty well for an I.D. that would work locally, but that didn’t really mean he felt obligated beyond supplying what had been ordered.
“I’ve got everything prepped, but putting it together takes a couple hours.” The snappish tone was noted, but barely warranted a raised brow; the Finn was used to working with less-than-desirables and those that couldn’t be patient. “A lot of work goes into this s**t, I’m small time here.” It wasn’t even his main source of income - tinkering and his youtube channel were. “You can either come to my place to wait, or we can meet up again later. It’s up to you.” Either way, he wasn’t bothered - this guy was paying pretty well for an I.D. that would work locally, but that didn’t really mean he felt obligated beyond supplying what had been ordered.
