"Sharp suit, blondie, not looking like he's strapped seven ways to Sunday..." The man gave a sardonic chuckle. "Looks like you're the guy. When kings die," While he lowered his voice slightly, it was surprising to see someone who initiated the Valravyn salutation so openly. It seemed like he didn't care too much for discretion. He waited for Sam to finish the code phrase. While he loathed the need for secrecy, it was protocol, and he didn't need base getting on his ass again for "unauthorized contact" or whatever they came up with. He was a simpler man, cut straight and simple. He got his job done. A comfortable aviator jacket covered most of his body, with normal fitted jeans that gave his legs some flexibility. Slate grey eyes peered back at Sam, carved between sun-weathered skin; the trademark of an outdoorsman. He didn't seem too old, maybe approaching his mid-thirties or so.