Heath
Heath arrived late, filled with nervous energy that he hid poorly in a soft breathable sweater, jeans, and the shoes he would wear if he had to escape a zombie. It was just supposed to be the first meeting, he didn’t imagine there would be ghosts yet, but he wanted to be prepared.
With him he brought a 7 layer dip in a glass bowl, simple except the fried chips he brought were homemade and dusted with paprika. Those who partake of the dip might feel a zing of anticipation that is perhaps not normally felt in a meeting of strangers.