An Invitation from the Witch [PV Madman]

Thirty seconds before the clock struck two, a man stepped into the Gaucho Cafe. He blinked a few times, bright blue eyes taking a moment to get used to the change in lighting. He was dressed simply, business-casual, with tan khakis and white dress-shirt, top three buttons undone. He was tanned, but lightly, and was obviously caucasian. The man wrinkled his nose in distaste, the smell of grease filling his nostrils. He looked around quietly, searching for the one who called him here, some kid with a weird accent. Once he spotted his target, he approached the table slowly, in no real hurry. After reaching the table, he pulled out a chair, propping his feet up lazily, eyes focusing on the boy,"So, first order of business," He began," Who the hell are you, and whadaya want with me?" He was obviously American, with a noticeable New York accent, which may or may not be surprising, depending on how much or how little this weird foreign kid knew about him.

He took a moment to sum the boy up, a brow perked. The boy seemed to anxious, or maybe it was just his personality. It was too soon to tell yet. After the sudden bombarbment of questions, he allowed himself a quiet chuckle. The kid obviously wasn't accustomed to interviews, and certainly didn't know who he was talking too. Before speaking, he took the time to mull over his words, choosing them carefully, "I believe," He began, "That the more important question is why you called me here." His words were smooth, intelligent. "Wait, that was you, wasn't it? Or, are you simply someone's messenger boy?" He taunted, a quiet smirk on his face..

Absorbed the boy's words, a cleverly concealed rage building inside of him. Government? Government?! While his insides boiled over, Jakk was smart enough to keep it all locked away, the very image of calmness. He shifted, feet moving to the ground, moving to sit up straight, "Ah, now we're getting somewhere. Good, good." Perhaps the boy wasn't some punk after all, but he certainly wouldn't be saying that aloud, "I suppose you can call me Jack, Jack Whitmore, since you obviously don't know who I am." He leaned over on the table, before adding, "Speaking of, why would the leader of your 'organization' send you, a boy who..obviously has no idea who I am? Insulting to me really." His tone was taunting, meant to make the boy feel small, ignorant. However, he was quite interested in this 'Organization'. "Who do you work for anyway?" He questioned, " Whats this..organization?"

Pursed his lips, nodding slowly. He threaded his fingers together, taking time to think the other's statements over. This boy was either part of something big, or a lying brat in over his head. With nothing better to do, Jakk decided to indulge the boy further. "So, I assume you want some proof of what I do? That is..a perfectly reasonable request." He said simply, "But, how do I know you are really a part of any organization at all?" He had turned the conversation around, now asking the same of the boy, "How can I be sure that your not some lying brat?" He then sat quiet, eyes intently focused on the boy's hidden face, waiting.

Watched, disbelieving as the boy vanished, glancing around himself quietly. This was odd, where did the boy go..? He almost jumped when he felt the boy's breath in his ear. Restraint, of course, was key. He nodded slowly, "Impressive," he mused, "Impressive indeed." So, this boy wasn't a fraud. Of course, now he needed to prove that he was who he said he was as well. 'Its only fair, isn't it?' he thought, smirking to himself, before speaking, " Well, I guess its my turn now, isn't it?" He did enjoy showing off, so this was apt to be fun.

A wicked smiled curved onto his lips, "No, no, this is..fine." He looked around, nodding, "This place is..suitable indeed.." He didn't say much more, but he stood, still smirking, "Of course, I need to go prepare.." He said mysteriously. "I assure you, I will return." With that, he turned, heading out of the cafe without another word. About an hour later, he still had not returned, though the cafe's business began to pick up, a crowd of people fluxing in and out of the door. Eventually, the shop was ready to close, and he had yet to return. Just when it seemed he had completely left, he stepped back in, a grin on his face. He motioned to the kid, before slipping back out the door..

Chuckled, strolling down the sidewalk with a quick glance at the kid, "Hope you didn't leave your wallet." He says, pulling what looked like a car alarm button from his pocket. Before the kid would be able to ask, he pressed the button, but there was no alarm. Instead of a 'beep', there was a sudden 'boom' as the cafe behind them was suddenly blown apart from the inside, the force of the inferno shattering the windows, glass flying through the air as panic ensued. The entire building was soon consumed in withering flames, and a paniked crowd rushed to toward the building, roaring and screaming in Spanish. He grinned, moving in the opposite direction as the crowd, the beeper vanishing into his pocket. He turned his head to look at the boy as if to say,'Good enough?'