It's terrifying, looking at the three men in front of him. Danny is all the way on the left, in a perfectly pressed charcoal gray suit. He's sitting straight up, hands clasped on the table in front of him, looking serious and glancing around the bar every few seconds. Sprawling in the middle chair, looking completely at ease and eating a burger, is Rusty, wearing a button down in a shade of yellow that should never, ever be worn on the human body. Or, for that matter, any other type of body. And on the right is Linus, in an unassuming beige turtleneck, his fingers drumming on the edge of the table in some complex, never-faltering rhythm. DannyandRustyandLinus. Legends. Or, at this point, A legend. Maybe even THE legend. Mike gulps, and Danny sticks out his hand. "Danny Ocean. Idea guy." "Rusty Ryan. Detail man." "Linus Caldwell. Research." And to each one, he replies "M. A. Esker. Forgery."
"What does it" "stand for" he hears. and blinks. Because it was definitely one sentence, two voices spoke it. Linus started, Rusty finished. Jesus Christ. He'd heard about this, but never quite believed it. Until now. "Ummm, Michael. Michael Austin." He stutters out when he finds his voice. "Well Michael Austin Esker. Will you be helping us?" Thanking god that it was only Danny who spoke, Mike still only manages to nod. A job with DannyandRustyandLinus? Not even a question. But still, he glances towards the bar. He's probably going to need a heck of a tab to get him through this.
