"That might be nice." In the bar, the dim lights blurred him. Standing here in the clear lighting of Isaiah's apartment his looks are more apparent: a too-thin, long-limbed man with a scruffy beard and shaggy hair, his blue eyes mild and faintly curious, his plaid shirt unbuttoned at the collar. Nothing high-class about him, no way to tell that his previous job involved a six-digit salary and required suits, ties, and the occasional tuxedo.