Fredrick's rental car pulled up to the old, water-damaged church and grind to a halt on the wet gravel. It was a slightly overcast day, and it had been drizzling slightly when he arrived a few hours ago. Overall it made for what others might consider a dreary day, but for Fredrick it was almost just right. Over his many, many centuries, he had been able to carefully consider what kind of weather he liked best, and in the end it was a near tie between warm, wet, and overcast, or cold, wet, and overcast. Cold was a little better.
He got out of the car and gazed up at the church. This was it. The culmination of several years of nagging intuition and restless nights. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones, that this was where he was supposed to come.
Come.
After a deep breath and a final glance around the area, he walked up to the heavy wooden doors and gingerly pushed them aside. They might have opened with a creak, but he had learned how to open creaky doors noiselessly through practice(four months of straight creaky door practice in a deserted building in 18th century Hong Kong, to be exact). He slipped in unnoticed, standing still for a moment, gazing at the three men already in the room. They were talking, and the way they were talking... suggested things. But he had to make sure.
Fredrick cleared his throat, and they all looked at him. Then he had his proof. There was something in the eyes of a person who had lived longer than they ought. The body would not grow old, but the eyes... the eyes would, somehow. Something in the deepness, in the sparkle, in the way the pupil brought information about their surrounding to them, gave them away. And he could tell that they were far younger than he was, by almost a thousand years.
"I see we all finally decided to meet each other on common ground." he said, dropping his british accent for his original, nordic one. He advanced down the main aisle till he stood near them. His dress shoes, brown slacks, black with silver trimm vest and dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up were in stark contrast to the other's attire, and the way he carried himself obviously suggested he had more money then they did, but somehow his body language managed to convey absolutely no feelings of superiority or contempt. The art of stance, pose, and body language was one he had perfected over the years, and it served him well.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen."
