Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20170504012353/@comment-5543592-20170521194132

"I don't know I didn't get a name.  I'll ask him!"

There was a pause, and then Deborah spoke again in their helmets.

"Oh he's very dramatic.  He answered, 'The man in the mask.'"

The jets landed on the runway, coming to a complete stop very quickly, as was a trademark of F-16s, and began to taxi back towards the hanger. Sure enough, outside their cockpit windows, was the Masked Man, Kheiro.

He was sitting in a large, leather, longue chair, which he'd somehow gotten out onto the pavement next to the hanger. There was an end table next to him, upon which a bottle of scotch and two glasses sat. It was a surreal scene, like someone had taken the furniture from a sitting room and surplanted it where it didn't belong, and Kheiro position was so casual that one almost thought that the chair and table belonged there.

His head was following the jets as they pulled towards the hanger, the picture of patience, leaned back, hands folded across his lap, one leg resting across the other's knee.