New York’s Financial District
The prince said, “I hope this won’t take all day.”
Wearing an immaculately tailored silk business suit and an unaffected air of superiority, second in line to lead one of the twelve richest countries on earth, his tone made it quite clear that he felt he had better things to do than negotiate a trade agreement that could easily make his country the tenth richest.
The seven other men who shared the large quiet elevator with the prince decided staring away from him and remaining silent was their best response. Only Edgar Treeves felt it was correct to speak.
“If my opinion may be of any value to your highness, I can assure you, with a great deal of certainty, you won’t be inconvenienced for very long.”
As he spoke, Treeves alerted a man standing behind him that they were entering a situation where they’d be fighting for their lives. He stretched his neck by turning it slightly to his right. Anyone who had noticed the movement would have thought that he was feeling a bit tense before the impending negotiations.
However, with that small motion, Treeves made sure his Weapon was ready to be used.