“Now isn’t this a surprise? A Prism agent.”

Nash mused at the sight of the agent before him. He hasn't seen one in quite a while, though he wasn’t complaining on that front. In fact, the less Prism, the better for business. Agents like them always got in the way of his work.

“What’s not-so-delicate-thing like you doing in a place like this?” He mused, interested in why Prism would send one of their own to a party like this. Every few years, each world would send a representative to commune in this grand party to celebrate their peace treaty. It was an exclusive event that was only made for nobles, leaders, and respected third parties. Oftentimes, Prism was invited to send a few agents, but they always refused. This might be Nash’s first time truly meeting one of the allusive agents from that prestigious coalition.

His eyes trailed up and down the agent, getting a good look. He wanted to see what exactly he was dealing with. While he wasn’t impressed, he didn’t doubt that this person was sent for a reason. As long as he held his tongue from saying anything too incriminating, he could likely go about his duties as needed.

“Prism is so pretentious about these things, what? Did your bratty agency finally find the heart to come and commune with us, lowlifes? It’s truly appreciated.” Nash chuckled, swishing the glass of red wine in his gloved hand, his free one adjusting the gray metal mask that clung to his face.