The Oblivion Bar (All welcome)

@the_mercenary: @la_espada: "...." Higgins slowly lifted his head form a coconut shell Margarita, having only been seated a few seats away from the conversation. At first it was just hushed banter, the occasional word letting slip when the club's song changed tacks. Words like Knightfall and contract thrown around. The bug looked over to the well groomed man on accident, looking right at his eyes before widening his and looking back down at his drink.

Oh..Oh...Oh? I gotta just be paranoid. Gotta be...

Pest ordered another drink, his posture clearly trying to foolishly act nonchalant. Yet in his head, an excellent depiction of the place he could pop to was fresh.

That was badass :D

O____O

@lady_liberty

Damn, and thus the Knightfall family line dies. Lol Espada doesn't seem like that type of guy but who knows these days what a character is capable of. For all we know Higgins could turn into the next Hitler.

@la_espada: @_higgins_

Silence lay between both figures for a moment, and the Mercenary's grin refused to either shrink or increase in size, his crimson iris gleaming brighter than most lights in Oblivion then. He reached up with one gloved palm and wiped some of the blood off of his breastplate absent-mindedly, a guttural sound rising up from within the confines of his organ-less belly, expanding throughout his throat and finally prancing from his horrifically scarred, upturned lips like a mutilated show pony.

It was a chuckle.

"Avalon? Knightfall? That's very interesting. You're interesting. I'm interested."

The same bloodied glove reached back and retrieved his signature helmet, letting it rest a few centimetres above his crown for a moment as he leaned forwards, smirking devilishly at Santi with a confidence that made most men digest their lungs.

"Although I am a little insulted at the fact that you only want me for my body."

He rose, let his face inch a fraction towards the peculiarly garbed patron several seats away, and winked at him, simultaneously sheathing a small dagger he had been playing with upon the bar and turning away from the Madridistan Maestro. He chuckled again at some invisible joke and the Mercenary's helmet slid across his features like it was a layer of his skin.

@dark_vengeance_: He's the last active and known Knightfall but I believe Elie is still alive.

@the_mercenary: @la_espada: @_higgins_

The devourer is eating his medium rare human fillet, cuts taken from the thigh which provide a good bite. Balanced between muscle and fat, the quality and texture suggests that this is vegan meat. A virgin taste of man that has never indulged in the seduction of flesh. He couldn't help but overheard a tasty arrangement happening in the room, there is a professional, a mannequin, and one jittery looking fellow. He's had his fill before, a house preparing for easter celebration so there will be no more unnecessary feeding for the day. He still needed to buy paint to color the pregnant ones back at the house.

Jack cuts a portion of the human fillet mignon. That man over there is one of the best in the world, but when it comes to 'cleaning' Jack prides himself in being the best. He can do to evidence what Picasso did to paintings, whenever he is done the only evidence they will have is an urban legend. A bogeyman at best.

The lumbering hungerer gave a look to the professional, giving signal.

Cleanup, free of charge

@lady_liberty

I have a Knightfall planned myself which I might bring in soon.

@dark_vengeance_: Ohh, neat.

@_higgins_: @the_mercenary:

Poised in response to the Mercenary's audibly grotesque chuckle, the Madrid Mamba issued an urbane inclination of the head, a winning smile emblazing his suave features, "Well thank you my friend, for finding me interesting", a relaxed laugh following his subtle josh. "This is my contact information", calmly offering the enigmatic killer his business card. Despite his ideological and ethical differences with the Mercenary, if anything, Santi recognized skill, and in order to ensure Antonia's safety and by extension, Avalon's prosperity, there was little the pragmatic Spaniard would not do. "There is-", abruptly pausing, left brow curiously raised, the corner of his eye catching a glimpse of a neighboring individual's silently expressed interest in their conversation, Santi quietly smirked.

"Take the card", tersely transfixing his eyes on the oddly adorned man, a knowing smile bedecking his august features, observing the minutely indicative signs of the man's obscured intrigue prior to returning his attention to the Mercenary. "I already know how to contact you. We will speak soon my friend, in a place of greater privacy, si?".

Preston entered the interdimensional bar feeling rather peckish. The short statured elf-like creature felt a slow pain in his stomach, a sign of hunger. He needed actual food for a change. It was a rarity for him, due to his attempts to swipe some food was during night. It was difficult for the bamf to break into buildings because of his limited strength and short stature.

The bamf took notice of a small quarrel going on in the distance, perfect oppritunity to avoid being seen. He silently climbed the back of the wooden side of booth. His small head peered up and rested on the top of it. It toes gripped on to the side of the booth to provide support.

He noticed that there were quite a few employees manning the bar counter. It would be a struggle to make a journey to the kitchen without suspiciously being seen.

Preston was unaware that almost any species was allowed into the Obilvion Bar, despite it being the main rule of the pub.

The lad continued to eye the counter, awaiting a moment to strike. He himself was quietly perched on the back of an abandoned booth in quiet corner. How could he be possibly seen?

@whisk: there is a man eating what seems to be human flesh next to the little guy,

"want a bite?"

@Ult_Nerx- He stilghtly shuddered out of surprise upon hearing the rough voice of the character speaking to him. This caused him to loose his grip, landing on to the floor with a small shriek.

Preston had never heard a voice that low and rough in his life. It appeared to be inhuman. Then again, the bamf was now inhuman himself. He stood up, looking at the orge-like man.

He slightly flinched from the appearance. It was quite unexpected to have one such as the character in front if him to offer food like this so fast. Preston came back to his senses. Food. That's right he was being offered food.

Despite feeling hesitant, the short lad scaled back on to the couch in attempt to make more height with the man. The blue skinned shorty looked up at the man for a moment, he still lacked height.

Despite this, Preston still reach out for the offer. He barely managed to snatch food from the man, only getting a small amount. It was still satisfying.

He quickly consumed it with his sharp fangs. He looked up the man again, Preston was hesitant but he still felt as if he had to thank the man. After all, he did give him what would've been a month's work of scourging.

"Thanks..", he said with rasp in his voice.

@whisk: "No problem little one, being non-human is usually hard if you don't have the right support. I help others like us, well except for mutants. But for another reason entirely, if you want basic necessities I can help provide"

Toxicity took a deep breath and wrapped her soft fingers around the silver knob that would open the heavy oak door that sat in a library. No matter how much she researched there was no dead give aways that would lead her straight to her enemy. She had to keep searching and the fifteen hundred books that caressed this library's walls were of no use to her. The night was swallowing the city and she had come into the building uninvited, silence as her ally. The building was empty except the scattered guards that made their rounds. They hadn't noticed her yet but she didn't like to linger. Her green hair hung down to her back and she brushed it all to her left shoulder as she closed her eyes. Thoughts flashed through her mind as she turned the handle and wished upon a wish that she would finally be there. "Hey! Stop right there!" A male in his mid-thirties shone a flashlight in her direction, armed with a baton. The door was opened only a quarter. There was no way she would throw away this chance. As the man ran at her she spun around slicing her hand across his throat. She felt her nails tear through his flesh and watched as blood sputtered out of his neck. He grabbed at his throat and fell to his knees. The sad thing was that the poison reacted faster then blood loss from an artery. And was a hell of a lot more painful. She smiled and still spinning grabbed the doorknob, now stained with blood, and closed it behind her. Her eyes adjusted to the dim bar that was filled with smoke and the smell of liquor. 'Yes!' She believed the guards life was a necessary sacrifice. Toxicity quickly stomped her green thigh high clad legs over to the bar and demanded a gin and tonic. She lifted herself onto a stool and sat there, leaning back in satisfaction, a smug smirk sat upon her face. To her this night was a complete success.

@_higgins_:

The hungerer smelled the aroma of blood, it seems that he is not the only one who is into murder. A while ago he ate a waitress, now it seems that someone is kind enough to present him with yet another meal. It would be good since a corpse in front of a door would be detrimental to new visitors, the hulking figure stood from his seat. Fillet mignon finished, he passes a jade haired beauty as he opens the door. Grind distended its mouth, left arm enveloping the head of the man. Teeth hooking around the shoulder of the carrion. From the corpse's POV it was similar to an iron maiden, from a perspective of a super it is an equivalent of a 'death touch' ability. With a flick of a forearm the entire body was sucked in, his forearm bloated in a way that resembled Popeye the sailorman's. It is insta-chyme, mulch that Grind will digest in due time. He returned to the bar with a smile on the face as both him and his partner are satisfied with the turn of events. He ordered some kerosene, together with stronger fuel. Alcohol, if it doesn't make humans go blind then it is like soda to him. So he orders the best they had to offer.

Late to the party, but....

@toxicity:

Desiray was nobody special, her red and black outfit might have stood out a bit but for the most part nobody cared. Most here knew she belonged presently to a company known for some ugly past actions. And while Des wasn't there for those tragedies she did at this time defend them. What this summarized to was that her contacts would bail her out of any issue if for whatever reason the motor mechanic of machine gun murder couldn't handle herself.

Casually the mutant played with darts late into the night. The projectiles traveling in impossible ways just to hit the target dead center. Then she saw someone, long green hair who was she. "I know her, the agency..." She had a short attention span but she knew the face she just had to think. "Toxicity!" Des yelled to get the woman's attention. And as Spitfire yelled she had scooped up a knife tossing it in a murderous arc towards the jade haired enigma.

@amazingangel: Chuckling at both the bartender and the Mr Twilight character, Gene again slapped the bar " NAmes Gene, and I aim to get incredibly sloshed tonight so keep em coming." Snapping his fingers the light bulb above the bar shattered and the light that was given from it transformed into a hand and grabbed all five shots and lifted them up to Genes mouth, pouring the contents in his mouth and all over the front of his black leather jacket. His face contorted and he bellowed "WOOOO!"

The air ionized around him as Frey stepped through the threshold of his master's longhouse. He had been skeptical of the message, but the boredom of looking after the house in his master's absence had increased his suspension of disbelief. He blinked dumbly as the smell of pub food and hard booze and foreign creatures hammered his nostrils. He shook his head and reasserted his dominance of his senses.

He looked around for a place to store his blades, and seeing none went straight to the bar. He waved down the bartender. "Excuse me, sir, but do you serve food here?"

@xxspitfirexx: Toxicity threw her head back quickly disposing of the harsh drink. A dart flew past her head just missing by inches, taking with it a short lock of her green hair. If she hadn't downed the drink it would have hit her dead on. She heard her name screamed from a dark part of the grimm bar. Her eyes took flight and focused on a woman. Standing there was her enemy. This woman was a part of something much bigger then Toxicity ever could imagine, but she didnt care. They would pay for their actions no matter how long it would take or how hard it would be. She needed her revenge like a crack-head needed their glass. Slamming her boot down on the ground, Toxicity stood from her barstool and faced her opponent. "I'd say its good to see you but i'd be lying." She smirked and raised her hand pointing toward the black and red clad woman. "Are you ready?" Toxicity spit on the floor. "Cuz I am." The floor sizzled and burned where her saliva landed.

^(lol)

The synthetic bot turned on a single wheel and wavered a little on it's rod like torso, "Certainly sir. The conglomeration of technology we have at our disposal allows us to read the salivation levels indicating hunger of our patrons as well as the alignment of tastebuds to indicate optimal euphoria to the palette. Your meal was created when you arrived." A plate dings out of the bottom of the bar steaming beside a frothing beer placed by the troll tender.

Sitting beside him was a young man in his late twenties maybe early thirties watching a nether dimensional game of some kind where the players on the field were also the goalies, nets hanging behind their backs on a belt system while three different balls are hurled at each other to land on an unsuspecting players net. "Crazy"

@surkit: (xD STFU)

Frey tentatively lifted the lid off the platter. Beneath it was a perfectly cooked shank of lamb on a bed of rice. He unceremoniously began ripping into it with both hands. It took seconds for most of the meat to disappear from the bone. He scooped the rice with both hands and shoveled it down his throat.

After sating his hunger, Frey wiped off his hands and took a note of the area around him. He nodded to the bartender, then too his beer and joined the man watching the game. "Who's playing? And... What are they playing?" He said between sips.

@toxicity:

She watched the dart pass the jade haired figure failing to land a blow. Then her target spat, the ground sizzling from the bile. "That's not very lady like ms." Spitfire retorted. Then she made her move.

A high topped black boot slammed down on the table. Two knives previously stuck into the wood leapt free. Desiray kicked the dual blades sending them flying towards her targets throat. Remaining seated the machine gun maniac snagged a sub machine gun from the man on her right. The gun coughed a series of bullets in a barrage that would be easy for even base humans to evade.

Des did this because she could curve bullets. She predicted Toxicity would move to evade gun fire. And then it'd be to late to move and avoid a bullet with a unnatural trajectory.

The unanticipated revelation of the Noir Rose's identity as Antonia brought with it a fair amount of shock, and perhaps more than any other constituent of the Avalon CEO's corporate posse, Santi found difficulty in coming to terms with the situation. "I need a drink", and as per the demands of his thoughts, a drink would be had. Debonairly festooned by the sartorial swagger of an onyx, Dolce & Gabbana Martini Suit and the elegant regalia of a rose gold-plated Raymond Weil Tango watch, the Spaniard coolly retired himself to an isolated booth. "Whisky, Blue Label por favor", issuing a mannerly inclination of the head and winning smile in the neighboring waitress' direction, Santi's dapper visage betrayed no telling emotion of his present thoughts as they regressed to the situation at hand.

Until now he had only known the daring Dain as a driven and ambitious corporate intellectual. To take in the unexpected knowledge that not only does his boss actively partake in vigilantism, but regularly risks her life, it was a laborious task. And the Spaniard's concern for the Avalon CEO's well-being remained roused, to put it simply, seeing a friend hurt or worse, murdered was not his intention. And he was willing, to walk away from it all before it could progress any further. Deeply sighing in an attempt at retaining his internal composure, Santi indulged in a controlled sip of his arriving glass of Blue Label scotch whisky, the distinct warmth of the alcoholic beverage gliding down his throat. Walking away though, it would be facile, too facile. Perhaps driven by his pride, his stubborn refusal to yield, he considered, a proactive role in assisting the 'Noir Rose' in her heroics and ensuring that no overt harm come to her person.

If he truly cared, he would not walk away. Quietly smirking, he brought his glass to his lips for yet another sip, "Maybe".

@la_espada: [If we do a thing now, it'll be the first time we've ever interacted. :P]

Mistro wanted a night to hangout somewhere that wasn't an abandoned warehouse in Gothic. He couldn't afford his own house, or to go out to a restaurant, so he decided the Oblivion bar would be a good choice for him.

Trudging down a random street in Gothic, he looked for an unlocked door. The entrance to a nightclub, perfect. He zipped up his vest, pushed through the door, and was in the Oblivion bar.

The bar was not surprisingly, full of life. Aliens and animals of all kind were inside, eating and drinking their respective meals.

Mistro almost fell over when he noticed Santiago Porthos, he didn't actually know his name, just recognized him as the dude in the Avalon conference.

This was such a golden opportunity for the mouse swordsman. He ordered a glass of chocolate milk, and a block of cheese. The moment his cheese and chocolate milk was brought to him, he strolled on over to where the Santi was sitting alone.

The mouse's heart raced, his pupils probably dilated, he was just a tad nervous. "You're that dude from the Avalon conference aren't you?" He asked casually as he sat down in the booth. "That must've been pretty crazy for you, huh?" The mouse questioned as he took a large bite of cheese.

This'll be funny :D

@the_last_samurai:Oh I'm sure it will be :P

@la_espada: I admire how you're selling the shock of her secret identity being revealed.

@mastermouse: I'll reply soon nino, just working out some CV e-mail nonsense with my La_Espada account :)

@lady_liberty: Thanks :)

@thee_champion:Sure man :P

@mastermouse: ;)

@thee_champion: *Hopes Espada gets drunk and spills Avalon secrets*

@mastermouse:

A native resident of a world that serves as a home for those of extraterrestrial, supernatural, mystical, extra-dimensional, divine, experimental or what origin one may have, still Santiago "Santi" Porthos remained for a succinct second, speechless as a peculiarly sized rodent approached him with affable conversation. Curiously raising his left eyebrow with instinctive intrigue, the edges of his lips subtly curling upwards at the unacquainted mouse's amiable inquiry. "Well..", having yet to fully come to terms with the gravity of Antonia's identity reveal and the potential harm that could befall her, the Spaniard flawlessly feigned facial poise, his features betraying no emotion, refusing to be the gate for his conflicting emotions as he projected a socially disarming smile. "I'd like to think it was shocking for everyone. Those watching, and those in attendance as well".

Meeting the large mouse's ebony eyes with his own, Santi's scintillating, azure eyes softly squinted as he undertook a terse analysis, the curiosity of an intellectual gearing him towards momentarily studying the creature before him. The mouse's facial geometry and it's physiological similarity to the humanoid as evidenced by it's bipedalism as opposed to the quadrupedalism of ordinary mice, they all incited a spark of intrigue for the Posh Porthos. "Interesting", he thought. "Forgive my staring my friend, tis simple.. scientific curiosity", a quiet laugh urbanely escaped him, "Santiago", civilly extending his hand towards the creature, "And you are...?". If anything it provided him with an intriguing distraction from the situation revolving around the Noir Rose's unveiled identity.

@la_espada:*Opens dictionary* [Just in case you're on when I post this, I can't reply again until tomorrow, sorry]

Mistro was used to the shock people had when seeing a giant talking mouse, it was sort of a normal thing that he encountered upon meeting new people. Even so, his shock only lasted for a few seconds, his face sort of stopped showing emotion after that. No matter Santi's facial expression, the mouse was here for information so he listened to Santi's answer, hanging on every word.

Even with his incredibly sensitive hearing, he was absolutely determined to pull every bit of information he could from each and every word, he felt as if he couldn't listen hard enough.

The first answer was chalked up to a loss in Mistro's mind. Santi gave an answer as if we he were a politician, it was pretty much flawless, the opposite of what he wanted, the mouse king needed slip-ups, he needed information. Sadly, he had a feeling that Santi was a grade-A socialite, and had pretty much full control.

Then, something slightly different from all the others he had met, it seemed as if Santi were studying him, rather than looking down on him. "It's fine, really, most people just make a joke about my height." He said as he took a big sip of chocolate milk.

"Hello Santiago, I'm Mistro." The Master mouse said with an innocent smile on his face, as he shook Santiago's hand.

"Sorry for prodding man, this must be tough for you, I don't think you'd be drinking otherwise." He took a moment to calm down, this whole situation was scary for him, he was so bad at social interactions, and this dude was some sort of social savant. "I'm sure you guys all work really hard over at Avalon, It's sort of crazy how she managed to balance the work with Vigilanteism.Oh, and what exactly is it you do over there, if you dont mind me asking?"

Mistro took a big bite of cheese, and changed his face features to look innocent, as if he had no idea what he was doing.

@mastermouse: (No worries nino :)

"They do?", quietly pausing, the Madridista indulges in yet another sip of his glass of premier whisky, it's alcoholic warmth counterbalanced by the gelid touch of three ice cubes, "Tis quite rude of them, no?", relying on his inherent magnetism as he cordially sympathized with Mistro's mention of having his height casually derided by the majority of those he encounters. "Luckily my friend, I am of better manners than most people", an electrifying wink and winsome smirk following his terse comment. "Tis a pleasure, Mr. Mistro", an internal chuckle slightly endorsing his growing smile, 'Mr. Mistro', it almost sounded musical. "Believe me senor, it is no easy time". Though in the face of social interaction, he veiled his emotions, concealed information, and presented himself with cosmopolitan appeal and gentlemanly poise, his guarded response reminded him, it was no easy time indeed.

Again his curiosity was piqued, this time however, it differed. Though previously intrigued by Mistro's uncommon, humanoid physiology and bipedal architecture, he now observed something else. Calculating and coolly perceptive, a student of psychological and social phenomena, he took notice of a pattern, a pattern guiding Mistro's words. First a statement of relevance, followed by a related inquiry, almost mimicking the atmosphere of an interview, and having just met the monarchical mouse, the Spaniard understandably found the inquiry of the exact detailing of his work at Avalon to be.. curious. "I do exactly that which you just said Mr. Mistro, I work very hard over there", he knowingly smiled, vague cheekiness dripping from his debonair visage as he quietly refused to comment on his acquaintance's remark regarding Antonia's ability to balance her corporate duties with those of her other obligations as the Noir Rose.

"What of you, senor?", he paused, rhythmically tapping his right hand's fingers atop the table's wooden surface prior to flashing a smile of expressed curiosity, "Surely there is a story behind this, no?", referring to Mistro's origin as an anthropomorphic, supernaturally large, bipedal mouse.

Connor Crane walks into the Oblivion Bar. He's pissed, angry and in the crappiest mood right now. "Hand me adrink" Connor demands from the Bartender, who isn't impressed from his inappropriate attitude. "ID?" The bartender requested, and Connor flashed it to the guy, and placed it back in his wallet. "I'll have atequila" Connorsaid.

"Coming right up" the bartender responds, as Connor turns his head to @la_espada the rich man who he had heard so much of. "Santi... just where I'd thought I'd find you" Connor smiled, leaning back on the bar.

@thedemogoblin: Nice post, but Santi isn't known as Espada, that's a former masked secret identity of his :)

@la_espada:

(Alright, I'll edit it)

"FINALLY! I've been looking for a god damn bar all night!" Spyder walked passed the strange crowds, paying them no mind, and headed straight to the bar. He took a seat and a beer and two shots. "Perfect!" He proclaimed, housing them both down.

"Well I'm glad I met your expectations, senor", the Spaniard cordially responded, reciprocating the unacquainted man's smile with his own gentlemanly replication as he succinctly inclined his head with blue-blooded panache.

@la_espada:

"I need your help" Connor just went ahead and put it out there. "Are you well aquainted with the word 'Superhero?'"

@thedemogoblin:

"I'd like to think so my friend. After all, we live in a world where presumed gods exist, new extraterrestrials come and go on a daily basis, super-beings are created by the forces of science", quietly pausing, Santi inquires, his curiosity relatively piqued by this unnamed man's request for assistance. "Why do you ask? What kind of help do you need? And, what is your name?".

@la_espada:

"Connor," the man smiles. "I'm Connor Crane. You watch the news don't you? And for a man who owns a company, I thought you'd try and be aware of your competition. But that doesn't seem like the case." Connor pays the bartender, clutching his tequila in his hand. "I'm forming a foundation. Both me and Ptolemy "Wolo" Wolodyjowski" Connor paused. "It's a foundation that funds heroes and their gear. We called it the Herculean Foundation. Fancy name? Ptolemy thought of it."

Connor took a sip from his beverage. "I think I'm going to need a third funder. Would you like to invest with us in the foundation?" Connor smiled. Another sip.

@thedemogoblin:

Modest laughter escapes the dapper Madridista as he calmly raises his hand in gestured dismissal of the notion that he was a company owner. "You are mistaken, Mr. Crane", he began, civilly meeting Connor's eyes with engaging magnetism. "I do not own a company. I work for one in a high-profile job", Santi paused, "I am as aware of Avalon's competition as our competition is wary of us". Pensively considering Connor's proposition, the Spaniard's sapphire blue eyes subtly squint, "Hmm... not to take anything away from you, senor, but before I make my decision, would you mind enlightening me on what your foundation's developed business plan is? I assume you have and the others have done a good amount of market research, si?".

@la_espada:

A sign of embarrassment was present in Connor's facial expression and motion, but he tried to bury it away. "My apologies" he finished off his tequila. "Allow me to enlighten you. What would you like to know? Of course, we have no plan on funding heroes who we're not even familiar with. You have to go through set trials. But tell me, what would you like to know?"

@xxspitfirexx: Bullets spat at Toxicity, not leaving her a single moment to think. She kicked past the bar stool she was seated at and made a run for it. The bullets flew past her and not even one clipped her. It seemed easy.. too easy. "What the hell are you shooting at?" She scoffed and ran at her opponent. Unfortunately she wasn't expecting the last bullet. Time seemed to almost stop as Toxicity watched this targeted bullet come straight for her head. 'Well this is going to hurt.' As the bullet collided into her head she collapsed in on herself and turned to smoke. Thick green smoke.

@thedemogoblin:

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Crane". Partially intrigued in this new acquaintance's business proposition, Santi turned to courteously meet the man's eyes, his telling disposition conveying his evident interest in the potential investment opportunity. "What I would like to know is if you have a business plan. If you have a formal statement detailing this foundation's plans for a marketing campaign, what vision they have, their legal plan, mission statement etc.", pausing, the Spaniard's august features were bedecked by a debonair smile, "But that was a summary of what I want to know, allow me, Mr. Crane, to do as you asked and present you with my specific questions".

"How will your company market and sell it's products and services to it's target customers? Do you have a business model? And if so, what is it, and how will it make money?", the Spaniard continued, "How does your company intend to regulate it's managerial operations as it grows? Have you and your associate assessed the risks and threats that your company may face? And what have you developed to address them? What are the company's capital and resource requirements? What are it's projected financial statements?".

Tersely pausing, Santiago urbanely adjusted his Hermes silk tie, "I will need all those questions answers, senor. I will need a detailed, convincing business proposal, and I will need to know how your company can guarantee that I will not be losing any money, and will instead be making it should I invest in your project".

@la_espada: I like how you portray Santiago as a real businessman, instead of just going 'yeah, what's your proposition' and then making a decision. Instead he comes off as professional and wary. Good job.