Monocle eyed the poetic newcomer. He could not see their face, but even so, she seemed to be observing all of them. He was not so naive to assume that they all were present for constructive purposes, and he eyed the grouchy old lady with wariness. He went back in his limo, and withdrew a long case from under a seat. He popped the latches, and took a black cane from inside. He pushed the case back under the seat, and inspected the cane. Made entirely of metal, it was satisfyingly weighty in his hands. He pulled at the top, and gleaming silver was revealed. It was beautiful. He closed it once more, and unscrewed a cap at the hooked end, revealing a tiny spike. Poisoned. It was the perfect killing tool, this cane. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. He stepped back outside, refusing a s'more his driver offered him. He leaned his weight on the cane, and watched as the sun began to sink into the horizon.