Elena sits at her table at the Last Round, wondering if she misunderstood something. She checks her messages and no, she is in the right place with a couple minutes to go until the right time. She stubs out her thin cigar, which is probably the only thing that still ties her to her old life. She just cannot give up the thin, foul smelling Russian cigars. She had broken the vodka habit some time ago, but not this. Taking another from the hard pack, she lights it from the candle on the table and sits back to see if.........................aha...............yes. There is Gunderson and he has someone with him at that table. Chiding herself for not going to see him earlier, she picks up her tall glass and walks over to where Gunderson is sitting. She waits a few feet away, just in case she has guessed incorrectly, waiting for the guy to acknowledge her.
She takes the time to study the other woman at the table. A rather plain looking girl of somewhat indeterminate age, but Elena knows full well how deceiving the physical appearance can be. The girl is dressed in a long great coat of rather good quality, perhaps a Mortimer. That alone speaks well fer her.