Helping Hand Who: Zio, Kaminski What: Zio's got money to burn and Kaminski knows just where the matches are. Where: Starbucks. When: January 7th. Warnings: None yet.
It was now seven-oh-five. Zio glanced at his watch to double-check the clock on the wall of Starbucks even though he felt quite sure it was accurate. He had yet to find any coffee shop that ran a wrong clock. He had a theory it had something to do with avoiding any chance of upsetting the over-caffeinated denizens but never thought it worth proving.
He also had a theory about those who worked at volunteer centers and was darkly pleased for it to be panning out properly. Kaminski was late. Not too late but just late enough. Zio smiled to himself and took another sip of his coffee. The point of the meeting rested safely in his briefcase and he wondered if the other man had a number in mind or if he would be forced to provide something with a suitable amount of zeroes. Either way, he was far more interested in what kind of man this Kaminski was. It was hard to go by forum posts, really, but he seemed to have a dry, clever enough sense of humor.
Even if he also appeared allergic to proper capitalization and punctuation. Maybe it was a job hazard of working with the young. Zio had no clue. If he were honest, this was far more his mother's idea than his own.
He sighed a bit and lifted his cup to guage the level of coffee left. Another twenty minutes, he figured, was enough time to wait. Then he would find another suitable charity to start the new year off right.