Anton said nothing nor did he seem to react to the nearly naked young woman before him, he seemed more like a shell or suit of man and the details of emotions had been dusted away like so much lint. He stretched out his arm, offering the twenty dollars to her. Once she took it he stepped inside the apartment, his dark unfeeling eyes swept across the place before looking at Ginger once more and still he said nothing. The exotic assassin was as quiet as the grave and as grave in expression as one could get. He was utterly bizarre. Finally he did speak, a voice that gutturally deep and accented. It was a voice not unpleasant but sort of unsettling in a way “Where do I seat?”