Quentin: Sits back in his van, glancing over a stack of fliers and documents scattered across the passenger seat. The dim interior light flickers as he shifts his weight, pulling out his tablet to review the job details.

"Alright, let’s see what we’ve got today."

He picks up a half-crumpled flier, examining the address printed in bold letters, before cross-referencing it with a few notes he's scribbled down on his tablet.

"Target’s supposed to be moving through here soon... If the intel's right, I’ll have eyes on them within the hour."

Reaching for his camera, he adjusts the lens, getting it ready for a few quick snaps once the target appears. The camera’s already configured for night shots, just in case things go dark.

Quentin flips through some old photos he took on previous jobs, a mix of surveillance and close-up documentation. Some were rushed, others perfect—he always prides himself on getting the right angles.

"Yeah, these are solid. Exactly what I’ll need tonight if things go down smooth."

He checks the time, then his surroundings, ensuring he’s parked in a good spot—out of sight but with a clear line of sight to where the action will happen. Reaching for his comms gear, he makes a quick check to ensure it's operational, keeping an ear on any updates from his contacts.

Thinking: "Stay ahead of the game, Quentin. Play it cool, watch for movement, no surprises."

With his strategy set, he glances out the window, the glow of streetlights faint against the darkened road. His plan is simple: stay sharp, stay patient, and get the evidence he needs without being seen.

Leaning back, he pulls out one last document from a folder under the seat, skimming the final details to lock everything into place.

"Alright. Time to work."

He stows the paper away, slips the camera into his jacket, and waits for the night to unfold.