Dale Tarin walked to his closet and began to paw through the suits. He had a small wardrobe here for changing when his attire just felt wrong or he had to go up town right after closing to a benefit and required white tie or black tie. Today he had a video conference scheduled and he needed to avoid patterns that would look garish on a monitor or projected in a board room or conference room. The wolves were circling for the attack. He drummed his fingers on the doorframe. Was it too much of a threat to use Samson and tear the temple down? No one wore togas anymore or animal skins. He took one of his white shirts over to the light and frowned at how it flashed and showed iridescent in the glare. No martial arts move. No upper body strength at all. This was going to be a main lobby train station kind of thing. They come in looking for a man with a worried look and he stops feigning surprise. Weak, frail, fearful of disease he moves quickly to stand with his back at a pillar where they cannot figure out how to corner him as the lobby is open all around. 021(1)