Alexander sauntered up to The Grande tapping his cane against the ground every few steps. His black shirt strained to hold back his large gut, which wobbled with every step, and his long black trench-coat drifted lazily behind him. A small smile hovered about Alexander's, or Alex as he preferred, pasty white face as he took in the scenery. Alex paused for a moment outside the door to flip his lit cigarette in a lazy arc that ended with the smoldering ember landing dead center in the ashtray by the door. The bell above the door rang as Alex walked in and headed to a nearby table, he ordered a large coffee and while waiting for that to arrive opened his messenger bag and pulled out a steel coated laptop and sterted it up. After his coffee was delivered, Alex paid for his drink and pulled out a small flask from which he poured a liberal dose of whiskey. Sipping relaxedly and typing away, Alexander sorted through his files and sent the most pertinent ones off to his unknown contact in the rebels.
*I wonder if I'm making the right decision...* Alex wondered as he finished his coffee and left the cafe, lighting another cigarette as he walked.

Ghillian walked into the Grande slowly, his hands dug into the pockets of his clothing. He sighed as he would sit down at the bar, looking at the tender with a deep look of un-enthusiasm. "Scotch on the rocks, please." He would say monotonely. He would spin around to look around The Grande. It seemed a little more...vacant than it usually did. He supposed it was due to the time of day, or something irrelevant like that. The tender returned with his drink, and he reached around to pick up his drink, to start with a heavy sip. The drink was swiftly finished by a sigh, and the sound of a glass hitting the counter. He would turn back around look to each table. Only a few patrons...and no card games going, like usual. He was craving to play Blackjack; a game he hadn't played in a long time.

He would remain quiet, to wait and see if anyone he knew extensively came through the door....