There were multiple layers that separated him from the client. Not one layer touched the other, it was imperative that it remained that way. They only knew him by HitMan, nothing else. He could walk amongst them all, they never knew. He'd taken great pains to keep it that way.
He used that anonymity now.
The client was a Fat Cat, manicured, pedicured, loud, boisterous, moneyed, he surrounded himself with henchmen which made him look more important than he actually was. He had seen his kind before, scared, pathetic poor excuses for a human being. They always had a beautiful woman they could do nothing with. They usually kept her in line with beatings, jewelry, private detectives and, when that failed, they resorted to murder at someone elses hand..
This one was worse, the food he'd eaten sat on his vest, his drink slid out of the side of his mouth as if there was a hole there. If he would have been poor, he would have been invisible, in fact he would have inspired a very primitive feeling.. revulsion..
Still, he had to be careful, he may have been a sloppy pig but, there might be someone that would miss him.. And, that,,, could be very dangerous..