Two middle aged men walked down a hall to a lift that would take them underground. One was as close as you could get to some weird modern version of a twisted dandy, wearing a long coat, a white shirt whit frilly sleeves beneath it and tight brown pants with boots. His long, straight, red hair covered a good half of his face. He had a cigarette which he twirled around his fingers clad in leather gloves.
The other man was quite the opposite. While they were taking the lift down he leaned against one of the walls. Short brown hair, slightly swept to the side. A mess five-o-clock shadow, not there because it was supposed to be but rather sloppy and lazy shaving. His eyes were steely and focused on one point. Though he didn't seem to be unhappy with the situation it seemed like he had a constant frown on his face. Around his waist was a shotgun with quite a few bullet cases attached to the belt. On his shoulder was a raven of all things, one who's neck the man would rub from time to time with his finger. His other arm was resting in the inner pocket of the vest he was wearing.
The two stepped out of the lift and took the corridor to the meeting hall.
They opened the huge door and stepped in.
Leonardo Maxwell and Ethan Dunwitch have arrived.