Five of the crew members slept in the garment shop that night for fear of being spotted on the way back to their apartments. Ryan decided to head out after the others fell asleep, finding the thought of staying there to be a bit too familial for his taste. Besides, he reasoned with himself, who could get any rest with Michael's complaining? The Jersey kid never stopped grumbling about the bright stains on his arms and face. Well. If anyone had a right to gripe, it was him. He looks like he had gotten himself into a horrible accident with a little girl's paint set.

Morning chill sinks into the bricks of the building, an unfamiliar feeling for the crewmates. It wasn't often that they had to stay at the safehouse, and this ramshackle building wasn't exactly furnished for the purpose. Naturally, Geoff slept in his office on the second floor. Ray and Gavin had sprawled out on the two couches, while Michael and Jack dutifully took the floor.

Michael is the first to rise in the entertainment room. He breathes in deeply, and chilled air rushes into his lungs without pain. It feels so good to breathe unhindered. Although he is aware of his stitches, they don't hurt today. He finds his way to his feet, feeling remarkably well-rested. He was wearing only his dirty jeans from the previous night, his shirt far too stained to salvage. He picks his steps around Jack quietly to not rouse anybody else from their sleep. They deserved some more rest after a day like yesterday. Okay, maybe Gavin didn't deserve it, but Michael would let him just this once.

Michael makes his way to the kitchen, where he grabs a Red Bull from the fridge. He cracks it with a satisfying hiss and brings it to his lips. He felt parched, and this felt electrifying. With the energy drink in hand, he makes his way to the side door of the garment shop. It lets out into the backlot, leading to the alley where Geoff's car is parked. He opens the heavy door and is greeted with Ryan sitting on the front steps.

He considers shutting the door and going back inside, but Ryan already notices his presence. "Michael," the man greets simply, his tone unreadable. Ryan barely turns his head.

Michael shuts the door behind him and picks a spot on the steps, though not far enough away from Ryan for his comfort. "Ryan," he answers. He pulls the can back to his lips, eyeing Ryan from the side. He was wearing a jacket nearly identical to the one he was wearing yesterday. Black leather gloves cover his hands, but the pink smudge from Gavin still decorated his nose. There wasn't much to do about hiding that. Ryan doesn't meet his eyes.

They sit in silence for a minute or two, before the tense quiet is disrupted.

"I know you have a problem with me, Michael," Ryan says finally, his eyes still focused right ahead of him. "And I understand. I can't make any promises for how long this peaceful partnership will last. My time here is merely to appease Geoff."

Michael is taken by surprise by Ryan's conversationalism, but tries not to let on. Annoyance sinks into his core. Of course he had a problem. "My problem with you is that I don't trust you. You've done nothing so far to inspire trust. The first and only thing you did was quite literally mark us all as bright pink targets," he spits.

Ryan looks contemplative, but the corner of his mouth curls into an evil smirk. "We weren't meant to be covered in it. I just thought it would be kind of funny to see Geoff's face when he opened that duffel... And it was. Very."

"Well, that's real nice," Michael drowns his annoyance with a swig of his drink. "Was it worth it?"

"Yeah," says Ryan somewhat wistfully. "It's the little things."

"You and Gavin are a match made in heaven," Michael says sharply. Ryan doesn't react to this.

Michael peers at Ryan over the edge of his drink. He seemed very relaxed right now for somebody wanted by the law for uncountable crimes. Ryan turns and smiles softly at Michael, which only unsettles him more. Michael hides his expressions behind another drink. "What're you sitting out here for, anyway?" He mutters dryly.

Ryan shrugs. "I didn't want to scare anybody by just walking in. I'd like to not get shot today."

Fair enough, Michael can agree as he allows a slight nod. Ray, at the very least, was a little trigger happy when surprised. He was quick, too, and his aim was… well, let's just say you shouldn't surprise Ray. It could be the last thing you did. "I guess what I mean is, why'd you leave last night?" He pauses, before adding, "I don't have to like it, but you are part of this outfit." He didn't really feel at all okay with Ryan being here, but he felt he had to phone it in at this point.

The man looks surprised by this beneath the surface and looks away, casting his gaze back out into the lot. "Not my style," he mutters. Maybe, Michael thought, Ryan could see right through his false kindness.

Michael studies the other man for a moment. A lone wolf. He couldn't help but liken Ryan to himself- as much as that bothered him to admit- those two years in New Jersey that he spent alone. He never wanted to join a crew again, favoring solo work. There were less loose ends, less problems to clean up in the long run. Fewer assholes deciding they didn't need him anymore- More work, just for him. All the reward. So in that, he understood Ryan. He had turned into a different creature altogether, because that's what working alone called for.

And then he found himself after the same target as a certain sniper he now called a good friend. Ray was the beginning of a new era for Michael. They clicked immediately, although Michael was slow to warm up to him at first. Michael was still fiercely independent in those days, but it didn't hurt to have an ally. Somehow, Ray changed his mind. Somehow, they hadn't killed each other right away. Ray had said something funny at the sight of him, but it seemed stupid now. He couldn't even remember what he had said.

Michael thoughts are broken as Ryan stands. He slings a bag over his shoulder and turns to face him. Ryan, from this angle especially, is a tower of a man. The morning sun is blocked by his hulkish shoulders. Michael squints up at him and says, "We both know you don't want to be here. So why stay? What does Geoff have that's so important?"

"Geoff's clever, Michael," Ryan answers with a shrug. "I doubt your little group has given him much reason to utilize it, but he's got information on everyone. He has to. Do you think if shit hit the fan, he'd be able to kill you all? It's insurance. He could turn you all in, right now, and leave with his hands clean. He's covering his bases. Even you."

Michael stands now and pushes himself into the other man's space, but only comes up to Ryan's nose. It's easy to tell that he was getting angry. He wouldn't be intimidating just by his size alone, but Ryan knew his bloody past and backs up slightly. Michael's irritability is coming through in his voice, like a pressurized can about to blow. "What's he got on you?" He repeats with an edge, ignoring most of Ryan's words. He looks ready to snap. "He's gotta have something good for your psycho ass to stick around."

Ryan notes this. He grins devilishly and shrugs. "Perhaps the better question here, Michael, is what he's got on you."

Michael's face twists into a snarl as he finally lets his temper boil over. He balls his fists up tightly; his arms shaking with the building anger. Still, he exercises a great amount of self control as he holds them at his sides. Words, however, roll from his mouth without much control. "Geoff doesn't have shit on me!" He wouldn't. Like hell he would. He knew Michael would kill him, he'd string him up and gut him like a fish, he'd-

"Hey, assholes!" Comes the irritated voice from the second story. A tired Geoff leans out the open window to bark down. He didn't seem to hear the conversation. "Will you keep it quiet down there? It's only seven AM!" The boss disappears back into the room, grumbling audibly.

Michael clenches his teeth and folds his arms over his chest, though never breaking eye contact with Ryan. Ryan smirks, not looking away from the other man either. "Yeah, Geoff," Michael murmurs obediently, but his unsatisfied fingers still dig into his forearms.

Ryan wastes no opportunity. He leans in close to Michael's ear as he passes by. "Good dog," he whispers with a chuckle and risks patting Michael's head to send the insult home.

"You're dead," Michael hisses under his breath, but remains stationary as the door swings and closes behind him. If Ryan heard him, he must not care. He feels a nagging restlessness inside him, and he knew what it was. The urge to destroy. To punch and kick and blow shit up. He felt like he was on fire. This usually happened when Gavin fucked something up, but this was different. He didn't have an outlet right now. He sits back down on the steps, thinking it best to stay away from the others.

He takes another drink of the Red Bull before discarding it roughly. It slams the ground with a dull series of clinks. As much as he wanted to kill Ryan and get it over with, the words he had said ate at him for several minutes. Does Geoff have dirt on everyone? He rests his head in one hand, kicking at the energy drink can with his foot as the last drops of liquid drain from it. Michael could think of several things that he hoped Geoff didn't have.

But this was Geoff. He was like a dad to them. And not a shitty one. He wouldn't. Why would he need to...? Michael's head is swimming in lava, and despite his best attempts to calm himself, he's still right there at catatonic levels. He tried not to get like this anymore. He looks down at his shaking fists, wishing that Ryan would come back out to fight him. How he would like nothing better than to tear that smug smile off his face. Knuckles splitting on impact. He'd replace this pink with red. He's so deep in the violent fantasy that he doesn't hear the door open again.

"Don't listen to 'im, Michael." The voice is gentle and lilting. The lad sits down right next to him, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. "Ryan doesn't know what the crap he's on about."

Michael tolerates the gesture, but just barely. He didn't like being touched by anyone. But he would allow this. "You heard that? ...Thanks, Gavin," he managed after a long breath. Gavin's concern only made Michael clam up a bit. He didn't need this attention. Not at all. "He just knows exactly what buttons to press. He just said some things that… got to me, is all."

Gavin studies Michael with intelligent green eyes, though Michael doesn't meet his gaze. He's still focused on the Red Bull can, now crushed mercilessly underfoot. Blood was pumping in his ears, red and hot to the touch. His very skin seemed to rattle with every violent heartbeat. Michael was getting good at keeping this stuff internal. Sometimes. Gavin's fingers tap lightly on his shoulder, in a slow rhythm. "You're bloody shaking you're so mad. What'd he say?"

Michael boils quietly, digging his fingernails into his jeans. He didn't want to speak. Not when he was like this. Gavin's fingertips prod his shoulder in sequence, and Michael's heart reluctantly slows to match the set pace. "Come on, Michael," he chimes. "What'd he do?"

"He called me a dog," Michael spits, slightly embarrassed but trying not to show it. It didn't seem like a lot; he knew that. But one surefire way to piss him off from zero to sixty was to compare him to an animal. He was nobody's dog. "And he tried to make me doubt Geoff."

"What's with that mug and dogs? He called me one, too!" Gavin says seriously, ignoring the second part entirely. He looks like he had just discovered a critical bit of information. "What a right weirdo."

His face looks so deep in his tinkering that Michael can't help but smile, but buries it under his hands. He tries to shrug off Gavin's clasp slightly, but Gavin doesn't let it go yet. He could feel his anger derailing a bit. "Hey, come on now. What was that about integrity you were tellin' Ray? You said not to change for Ryan," Gavin chirps. "Well, what are you bloody doin', Michael? Business as usual, then! Practice what you preach."

Michael looks up, moving his hand away from his lips. Ray must've filled Gav in on his little self-preservation spiel yesterday. He was right. Gavin wasn't right often, but he was right just this once. He feels his anger trickling away, thankfully. The pounding in his ears had almost completely ebbed away. There were only two ways to get him over his rage episodes: a 'creative' outlet or being talked down. This was preferable to blowing Geoff's car up, like he was considering doing.

"We dogs gotta stick together, then," the brit says as he stands. He offers Michael a hand, which he takes with a smile.

"Okay, okay, don't push it, Gavin," Michael manages as he is pulled to his feet. Although he's smiling, he looks at Gavin seriously. "Just so it's on the record, if he calls me a dog again, I'll fuckin' skin him."

"Don't doubt it, boy," says Gavin fondly as he opens the door to let them back inside. He knew Michael had some rage issues. They all knew. His episodes were less often now, but in the beginning it was hard to go a week without one. He'd blow up at anything. Minor problems. He'd cuss up and down and threaten to leave on the spot. Ray was always the best at calming him down, just from the sheer amount of times he's had to do it. Of course, they were times when Michael couldn't be talked down, and he had to be sedated before he did something he'd regret when it all came back to him.

Gavin has a feeling there will be a lot more of them with Ryan around.

Before Michael can speak again, they are inside. The sounds of an argument are already echoing down every hallway. Ryan's voice is calm, but Jack and Ray are shouting. "Great," Michael mutters to Gavin. "If he doesn't watch himself, he's gonna get taken care of pretty fast." Good, thinks Michael as they round the corner.

Ray is standing up on the couch in his jeans and a tank top, clutching the TV remote like a knife. Ryan stands below him, arms crossed. Despite Ray's higher ground, his short stature only grants him a small height advantage over Ryan. Jack is seated on the other couch, quiet for now. "Give me the clicker," Ryan demands, holding out an open palm with quiet authority.

"You're crazy if you think I'm going to watch that," Ray grumbles, holding the remote higher than Ryan can reach.

"Animal Planet is a quality channel," Ryan insists loudly. There is no smile on his face. He steps onto the couch as well and the old springs creak under the weight of the two men. Ray swats at Ryan with a remote, landing a weak blow on his shoulder. "Alright, you asked for this."

"Oh, God. I'm dead," Ray yelps in regret, his brown eyes going wide. He loses his balance on the soft fabric and stumbles forward towards Ryan, but he sees Michael and Gavin in the doorway. "Go long!" He shouts, and, with a formidable swing, sends the remote careening in their direction.

Michael hasn't even begun to process the bizarre situation yet, and Gavin is laughing so hard that the remote flies right past him. All Michael sees is Ray's horrified face as his eyes track the projectile. Ryan looks on, unimpressed.

"Fuck!" The shrill cry comes from behind them as Geoff is nailed in the stomach with the clicker. It clatters to the floor, and the boss doubles over with arms wrapped around the impact zone.

Ray sits down on the couch and dares to only peek over the edge at Geoff. "I'm sorry! You're the best boss ever. Please don't fire Ray," his voice breaks as he whimpers into the fabric.

"Are you okay, Geoff?" Jack asks, but he is drowned out. The others all burst into laughter. Even Ryan laughs heartily for the first time, and this only raises a few eyebrows in his direction.

As if to answer Jack, Geoff picks up the remote and whips it back at Ray. There's a smile on his face, but the swing is a mean one. "Oh, shit," mutters Ray as he ducks. The remote sails past, landing on the floor where Ryan pounces on it gratefully.

The boss lets out a pained breath. "You guys bully me so hard. I think you just obliterated what was left of my liver."

Gavin and Michael make their way to the open space of couch Ryan vacated and sit there. Ray relaxes beside them, though he keeps an eye on the boss. Geoff sits next to Jack, happily exaggerating his injury to great comedic effect.

Ryan stands to the side of the room, flipping through channels until he gets to Animal Planet. Everyone ignores him as a show about man-eating parasites comes on. He looks pleased with himself. Michael just can't understand him. Venomous and manipulative one minute, then seemingly fine the next. Needless to say, he doesn't trust it. Not one bit. Judging by the look on Jack's face, he doesn't either.

The others seem to let Ryan have his reign over the television, except Ray, who quickly pulls out his pink 3DS. "So, Ryan, about that contact you have," Geoff prods after a few moments..

Ryan pulls his attention away from the screen where a parasitic worm that lives in the eye of its human victim is being discussed. Gavin looks like he's going to be sick. "All set up. We meet at one," Ryan says quickly before looking back just in time to see a brutally graphic artist's rendering of the worm burrowing into the eye.

Ray's involved in his game and Gavin is busy making exaggerated vom faces at the screen, but Michael perks up. A contact meeting set up by Ryan? Was everyone completely crazy? He didn't think he'd had to remind everyone who and what Ryan was, and why having him set up meetings was at best a death-wish. He decides to probe for further information. "What contact?"

"A crooked architect working on Pillbox," answers Geoff simply. "He's apparently got floorplans for every building in the state. Knows a lot about vaults, according to Ryan. He sounds like a good guy to be associated with."

Ryan side-eyes Geoff with a slight smile, but quickly goes back to watching the screen. Michael bites his tongue silently. Geoff seems to notice this, but gives Michael a reassuring nod. "It's alright, Michael. Nothing we can't handle."

"How can an architect be crooked?" Ray asks over his 3DS, barely breaking eye contact with the screen. "They just build shit."

"Misuse of resources, mostly. Building plans mysteriously make their way into the hands of the highest bidder. This is the kinda guy who knows where the structural weaknesses of shit is, and will give out that information for a cut of the take," explains Geoff. Ray answers this with a slightly interested mumble. He figures there's more, but he's moved on.

"This is bloody disgusting, Ryan," remarks Gavin loudly, now shielding his eyes. "How do you watch this?"

"I mean, it's not my favorite," he comments offhandedly, but his eyes betray him. He looks very interested in the parasite footage on the screen. "But it doesn't gross me out."

"What a fucking surprise," grimaces Michael, burrowing his chin into the armrest. "What's your favorite then? Do you like watching Dogs 101 or some shit?"

"Actually," Ryan hesitates, frowning, "that's not a bad show."

Gavin's eyes go wide and he shoots an amused look at Michael, who is at this point nearly falling off the couch from laughing so hard. Gav looks at Ryan's confused face and wonders how this man could be anything remotely close to a hitman. If he didn't see Ryan murder in cold blood right in front of his eyes, he wouldn't believe it. He'd sooner believe Ryan was a bloody middle-school math teacher.

"Would you like me to set the series recording for you? So you never miss an episode of Too Cute?" Michael sneers through his laughter. Ryan doesn't answer, only rolls his eyes. Even Ray is laughing at this point, having put down his handheld to join in on the mocking.

"Not that this isn't riveting, guys, but how are we going to get across town like this?" Jack speaks up seriously, unaffected by the boys laughter. He gestures towards his stained hands before making a motion towards the rest of them. "I can't imagine we'll be let into anywhere on Pillbox Hill like this, and that's if we make it over there without being seen."

Ryan takes this opportunity to interject, eager to get the attention off of him and onto a more serious matter. "Oh, right," he says. Michael wipes tears from his eyes as Ryan moves across the room to a bag on the table. He pulls out a couple of cardboard boxes and a circular orange tub. "I bought some of this heavy-duty scrubber cream. I don't expect it to work, but it's worth a shot. Bar that, I bought some powder cover up for the face stains and some gloves for your hands. I imagine you don't want haircuts and dye, yet."

Geoff nods, slightly impressed. "Not bad," he says while standing up to join Ryan at the table. Gavin leaps up to go with. The others look on, waiting for some trickery or backfiring. "To clarify, you're still an asshole, but this is a step in the right direction," he adds sharply.

"You actually bought this stuff, Ryan?" Gavin asks incredulously as he inspects the orange tub.

Ryan meets his eye seriously. "Gavin. Do you really think it's a good idea to go shoplifting right now? It was enough risk to buy it legally."

"Fair play." Gavin cracks open the ointment and slathers it on his hands. It smells sickly sweet, and Gavin can't help but gag at the horrific squelching noises it creates between his hands. "I'm sad to see it go, almost," he says through his sputtering. The orange cream seems to suck up some of the pink pigment, but not all of it. Ray and Jack get up from the couch warily, leaving Michael looking on over the armrest with narrowed eyes. He grumbles, and peels himself off the sofa as well. At least the boxes didn't look tampered with.

Each man tries the cream to remove as much of the stain as possible, but there's only some progress. Michael takes a large glob of it in his hands and starting roughly rubbing it into his forearms and neck. He steals a glance at Ryan, who was rubbing at his nose with it to no avail.

The room had filled with the sweet aroma, and it was getting hard to breathe it in anymore. "Bloody hell, this stuff's potent- Uhagh!" Gavin gags loudly, dismissing himself to another room to regain his composure. Michael gathers the spent cream in his hands and takes it to the garbage. His arms and hands were significantly less pink, and he imagined there was some progress on his face. He'd need some powder for that.

When Michael returns to the table, Ryan throws him a plastic bag. He looked up suspiciously, but Ryan waved for him to open it. Michael pulls out a dark grey long sleeve shirt with a small bear icon over the heart and a pair of flexible orange and black gloves suited for the nimble finger movements of his work with IEDs. He takes it in for a moment, admiring the little embroidered bear. Thoughts wrestled each other in his head but ultimately he said, "Thanks, Ryan." He slips the shirt over his head. It fits well, and covers a lot of the afflicted areas.

Ryan was wiping on some concealer to cover the big pink streak on his nose to surprisingly good effect. He barely meets Michael's eyes for more than a moment. "No problem. I knew you'd need them." He takes a second to distribute another bag to Ray. He still holds one in his hands for Gavin. There's more loud gagging from the next room. "I'll just… leave it here for you, Gav," he calls into the hall. There's a pause, then a grunt of acknowledgement..

Ray pulls out a purple hoodie similar to his ruined one and some dark grey gloves. "Nice! Thanks. You know, this almost makes up for for the whole staining thing. Almost."

Geoff works concealer into his stubble, and it manages to hide some of the stains. It looks more like rugburn or a mild rash, and he could live with that. Nobody's eyes would be drawn from across the street, and he didn't intend to get too close to anyone but the architect. "How's it look? Okay?"

"Looks great, boss," Ray assures as he wipes some over his left eye. It's not quite the right shade for his skin, but it'll have to do. As Michael pats on a liberal amount of concealer, he looks back to Ryan.

Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't a total dickhead.

.:...:.

"Is this the place?"

"This is it," Ryan confirms. "The Vuittonet Building."

"Vuit-wot?"

Geoff kills the engine and sizes himself up in the rearview mirror. Pink stains were covered neatly by a smattering of concealer. A crisp new suit jacket wrapped around his shoulders, and a tidy black bowtie hugged his throat. His unkempt hair was surprisingly tame. He looked good. Better, at least, than he had in the last few weeks.

"Geoff- quit primpin' in the mirror. This is bloody uncomfortable," Gavin whines. Geoff adjusts the mirror to see the backseat: Ray, Michael, and Ryan sitting uncomfortably with Gavin stretched out across their laps. He's clearly been jostled around. Geoff makes a mental note to arrange a larger vehicle. This was fun, though.

"We shouldn't have brought them," grumbles Jack unhappily from the passenger seat. By them he meant Gavin, mostly. He knew the other lads would behave. For once he felt like he didn't have to worry about Ryan.

"They'll have to meet him eventually if we can strike a deal, Jack," assures Geoff with a sigh. In the mirror he can see Gavin worming towards the door to the discomfort of the others. Ryan looks wholly displeased, like it's all he can do to not strangle the brit. "I do agree with you, though," he mutters.

They all climb from the vehicle with varying degrees of difficulty, but there it was. The Vuittonet Building. It was a towering testament to man's need to overcompensate. It housed several companies and freelancers within the walls, but most famously an architectural company that took up most of the office space and for which the building was named.

Geoff turns on his heel to address them to make a last check. Everyone looked fairly cleaned up, for now. Aside from the mismatched concealer on Ray, it was a pretty good way to hide it. He hates to admit that Ryan knew what he was doing. Sometimes. That asshole. "Here's the ground rules, assholes. Nobody speaks out of turn in there. Don't be loud or obnoxious or get yourself noticed. Not everyone in there is a friend to us," he reminds.

Ryan speaks now, "Right. Don't make me regret this."

Gavin blinks as if he had heard nothing. "Wot?"

"Oh, for God's sake, let's just go," grumbles Geoff. He pushes through the revolving doors with the others following shortly behind. Ryan walks ahead to the desk where he speaks to a blonde woman. A gold-trimmed name tag on her chest reads 'Kara'.

As Ryan leans over the desks the lads look up, amazed. Their days of criminality had gained them some wealth, but this was amazing. Michael had never seen so much marble and granite and… gold? Large video screens showing different multi-million dollar houses lined the walls, all of them far beyond what any of them had ever lived in. "Wow," he breathes quietly, overwhelmed.

"Right?" Ray says. "Big change from the street." He had that right.

Ryan interrupts them. "We can go up," he says, pointing to a glass elevator behind the desk.

"Don't touch anything," Geoff hisses to Gavin as they enter. Gavin lowers his hands from the button panel, defeated. Ryan hits a button- 34- and the elevator doors close with a cutesy plink noise. The elevator lifts off, and the cab is enveloped in darkness. There's a beat and then the light returns, and with it the realization that the elevator is surrounded by an aquarium.

Colorful fish float by, nonplussed by the passing elevator full of people. The fish see this view everyday. But to Gavin, this is magical. "Wow," is all he can articulate as he places both palms on the glass. Michael follows traces a fish's path with his finger before it becomes too low to reach. Soft blue light dances on their skin, and Michael almost forgets what they were doing.

There's another plink and the elevator stops at their destination floor. Michael is filled with the healthy dosage of dread that comes with every new meeting. Would this just be one more prick to deal with like Ryan? He pretty much had to be, if this was someone Ryan worked with for any amount of time beforehand. He makes sure his pistol is still on his person, just in case. He didn't expect to need it, but he learned to expect anything.

The doors open and there is a woman is an elegant, fitted black and white dress standing by. She has fiery red hair pinned up just right and cat-like green eyes. There is something almost familiar about her. Michael shifts slightly behind Ray, but keeps looking. "Hello, Ryan," greets the woman who Michael assumes to be the architect's secretary. He looks past her to see the sprawling glass and marble office. A dark wood desk sits in the middle of the room. It actually looks inviting.

"Hello, Miss Tuggey," Ryan answers politely with a nod, stepping forward to shake her hand amiably. The others look on at his uncharacteristic display as they shuffle out of the elevator to take their places behind him.

"Where's the bloke we're meetin', Ryan?" Gavin mutters in a bored voice, clearly eager to get on with it. Geoff elbows him to shut him up with a growl.

Ryan shoots him a warning look over his shoulder. "Manners," he spits quietly. "Sorry about him," he says apologetically. The woman locks eyes with Gavin, who shirks backwards under the molten green stare. He chooses instead to hide his gaze in a nearby fish tank. Michael would laugh if she didn't look like she could snap Gavin in half with a blink and a snap of her fingers. He remains quiet.

"This is Lindsay Tuggey," explains Ryan. "She's the architect."