He loves chocolate cake.
He was tall, in his forties, with a handsome face, brown hair, and glasses, wearing a white button-down shirt, a crimson tie, khakis, and a shiny red ring. He walked straight toward Benjamin with a slow, steady stride until he came to a stop a few feet away.
“You’ve come here to investigate us? I’m flattered. If you want to get the word out about our cause, I would appreciate that, really. Crusaders for Justice—I think that has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? But you’re not a journalist.”