Another man in his early-to-mid twenties walks in, with artfully mussed black hair, wearing sneakers, jeans, and a button-up shirt with the collar popped. He also has on a pair of glasses with square, black frames, but looking more closely, there aren't any lenses in the frames. David looks around the room and gives a distracted half-wave to the group as he spies the coffee. He walks over and pours himself a cup, looks back at the conference table appraisingly, nods to himself a couple times as if having an internal conversation, then pours a second cup, before carrying both over and taking a seat.
Speaking with just the faintest hint of New England in his voice, David says, Morning everybody, Mr. Dawson. Sorry if I kept you waiting.