It hadn't been his idea to be here. The powers that be had said something was supposed to be going down. Something about a rich playboy holding a conference about the registration act. Rumor had it, it was against the registration act. The even more strange rumor had it that he might be a mutant himself. He didn't know how they'd gotten him in, and he really didn't know whose palms they had to grease to get him let in through a side door to bypass the metal detectors. Not that weapons were a huge thing for him. Hell, he was a weapon, but he was still more comfortable with a handgun and pair of blades under his nicely tailored suit.
The rather large man was currently standing near one of exit doors near the front stage area, along with another of the building security crew. They weren't there to protect Warren as much as make sure the building didn't get trashed and that no one killed anyone else. Sure, he wasn't really security, but apparently someone had been paid to make them think he was. The long, dark hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and he was standing with one hand holding the wrist of the other arm behind his back. To the casual glance, he seemed relaxed.
The more experienced, professional soldiers or muscle might notice the way his weight was balanced, as well as how his eyes never stopped moving over the crowd. And those dark eyes of his were empty. Not your standard security guard.
When Warren emerged there was a slightly tweaked eyebrow at the wings, but no further response. James didn't watch the speaker for long, either. Instead his gaze returned to sweeping the room, watching. If an opportunity to get in with Warren emerged, he would take it. If not, he was content to play his role.