You stepped off the escalator into the arrivals hall, the cool air of the terminal hitting your face. The crowd churned around you, a chaotic mix of families reuniting and business travelers checking their watches.

Then you saw him.

He was standing near the far wall, slightly apart from the flow of people, as if he wasn't quite sure he belonged in the stream of life. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell just past his jaw. His eyes were fixed on the paper sign he was holding, a simple white card with your name scrawled on it in black marker.

He looked... nervous. His jaw was tight, and his metal hand, glinting under the fluorescent lights, was gripping the sign with enough pressure to dent it.