He had received the call about fifteen minutes after he had flipped the sign on the glass door from 'Closed' to 'Open' after a rather light lunch. Someone, presumably a person he had handed his business card to at that last wine social, had given his number out to a modeling agency located on the other side of the city. On the phone Cecil was polite and agreeable to the woman on the other end's needs, inside though, he was bitching up a storm about having to travel such a distance to lend out some jewels for...God, he couldn't remember what the shoot was for exactly. Probably some lotion or perfume, some dumbass reason that required diamond necklaces that would make him hope to a higher power they weren't returned to him smelling of it. No reason at all the models should be wearing whatever the ad was selling, but then again some photographers wanted their study "in the moment" or some bull. Whatever. He was getting paid finely for this rental, and he'd be in sight of his diamonds the whole time.

"Cecil Ballard, I'm hear to see...Miss. Tasha Monroe?" He was polite to the secretary at the agency's front desk, the twig of a woman pointing a skeletal finger to a flight of spindly stairs as she called the woman who had called him just a half hour before. The smile on his face was grateful, but as plastic as the secretary's nose. He had no words for her, just cursing the architect for not putting a lift in. Slowly he made his way over, his custom made cane making a dull clack on every other step, reaching out with his left hand for the handrail as his bag slapped the same side. With an obvious intake of breath to show his dislike for having to travel this way, he mounted the stairs. Ten minutes later he was at the top, nearly blinded by a camera flash that seemed to gain brightness as it reflected off his gold framed glasses. The elven man scowled, but it was quickly replaced with a thin, polite smile as whom was presumably the woman who called him bustled over. She was apologizing for the stairs, unaware he was "handi-capable" as she called him (there was a crack in his mask at the word, but she didn't notice), plus a multitude of other things about what was going on with the shoot. Needless to say she was gabbing his long, slender and pierced ears off, but he waved it off with his outward, charming grace when she apologized for that.

"I hope these suit your needs, these are the finest quality I have in stock and you couldn't find any better anywhere else." Which was a lie, he had better, but he didn't want those smelling like Eau de Pricey Dishwater. When they reached the table Cecil laid out all the things of which she had requested. Diamond necklaces and bracelets was what they were requiring for their female models and according to the not close to twig like agent, they were perfect for the job. "I'm delighted to hear they suit your needs Madam, but please remember these are quite expensive and any damages they sustain will have to come out of your delicate pocket." Again a fake smile, one that made the woman falter a bit, but his charm and use of the word 'delicate' seemed to make her forget that. She arranged the waif like models one by one with the jewelry before sending them off to another part of the spacious room for their shoot. He could still seem them, but he'd be damned if he said he actually wanted to look at them. Ugh. Instead he merely hobbled off to find a seat nearby, his leg was starting to seize.