A dark figure steps along the sidewalk, a foggy cemetery encased in shadows on his left side, and a bare road on his right. The man’s trench coat sweeps the back of his knees, silently, and he favors his left side as he walks. His steps are swallowed by the silence of the darkness while his pale hand slides into his coat, gripping something.
Slowly, without much sound he turns and pushes the black gate open. The whites of his hands glow in the sliver of moonlight, and he steps onto the wet grass, turning his head, he takes in his suroundings. Mist circles around his shiny leather shoes, and briefly a Rolex appears. A slight flick of the wrist and it disappears under his sleeve just as suddenly as it had come.
He shifts, uncomfortable. The figures body language suggests that someone’s late.
Deftly, more graceful than any human possibly could, a lone figure steps from the inky blackness beside the grave; Black hood and cloak clinging to the new figures body like an ebony stain. The two men stand there, silently appraising the other.
“Long time no see, Claude.”

The man in the trench coat –Claude- pauses before answering. “Sterling. I have a task for you.”

“It’s been awhile, Claude. Whatever changed your mind, friend?” the shadowed figure- Sterling- sounds amused as he steps around the pale head stone. The moonlight glints off of his ivory hand resting on the stone, making it seem like it has a sickly pallor.
“I’m not your friend, Demon.”
“Careful now, Claude. You’ll get yourself in trouble.” The black frothy hood tips upward, toward the moonlight; skin lighter than ivory, glints, high cheekbones, and eyes darker than tar flash out from under the hood. A condescending twist of pale lips suggests his humor has just exhausted itself. “What is it you want this time?”
Claude shifted his hips, from foot to foot. His hand balled into fists in his pockets, his brimmed hat casts a dark shadow across broad face. “I want you to find my true name.” 
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