IC: Fallen Angel, The Job, The Run, The Doublecross Options Track this topic Email this topic Print this topic Download this topic Subscribe to this forum Display Modes Switch to: Outline Standard Switch to: Linear+

[Vegas]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:18:41
Bliss Nightclub

Each of you had received the message from Erik Suriel to arrive at Bliss nightclub in downtown no later than 9:30 pm as he had planned a little celebration of a job well done. Plus there was that whole issue of settling up payment as well and he assured you he’d be there with certified cred for each of you in the amount of $500 each for the satisfactory completion of the courier job you pulled the other day.

Erik made it quite clear that you were to show up dressed well, no gear, no street clothes. This was an upscale club that catered to a preferred and “pretty” clientele, besides Erik couldn’t tarnish his vanity and his reputation being seen with common shadowrunners. He also left the details that once all five of you had arrived, you were to make your way upstairs to “Heaven” where he’d be waiting with a private booth.

When you make your way into Bliss, your eyes and ears are assaulted by popular synthpop and an amazing technical light show. Club goers are decked to the nines in the latest street fashion, each person trying to outdo the next and stand out. Body mods, phosphorescent tattoos, fiber optic hair seem to be the norm. Every person there is stunning looking, especially the service staff. They wander the club in skin-tight holographic uniforms that hardly leave much to the imagination. Most impressive on both the male and female service staff are the pairs of angel’s wings that seem to have grown from their shoulder blades. The wings move and spread as if they have a life of their own, truly amazing devices if you stopped and thought about it much, but the bodies and faces of everyone around you keep you from doing just that.

As you make your way further into the club, you are plunged into the main dance floor and bodies pressed against one another as the club is packed. On the far side of the club you can make out the fire bar, decked out in various shades of red and orange lo-glo and even live flame behind the bar. Seems like that’s the place to grab a drink and wait for the rest of your team to arrive.

[Critias]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:20:12

Billy Shen wasn't surprised that his quick scan of the parking lot didn't show anyone else's vehicles. He'd learned how to drive by hanging on for dear life, riding bitch with his arms tight around the flat belly of one of the Sprawl's premier small-scale smugglers and general courier drivers. She'd done the driving, he'd done the talking, and together the two had sped and lied their way out of the alleys and into real business. The first time he'd slung one leg over his very own motorcycle -- revved the handles and all -- he'd reflexively kicked the beast into the same breakneck speed he always associated with the two-wheeled monsters, and he hadn't slowed down much since. While he still had only maybe half Razor's knack for it, Billy he was still a better (or, failing that, faster) driver than most folks in this 'burg.

Better early than late, he grins to himself as he slips his glasses on, then extends the upward motion so that one hand dives through his helmet-matted hair (memory gels re-perfecting each cranberry red spike). A few seconds later, and even as his long legs are carrying him across the parking lot, he's got his little black earbud nestled into place just in case he's got an incoming call. The bounce-staff must've been told who to expect, because a nod and a wave is all it takes for him to get past the leather-clad archangel at the door. As he strolls through the entrance he carelessly tosses an unlit cigarette to his lips. Even if the joint's not my cup of tea, I'd rather wait on Mister J than have Mister J wait on me.

A finger-roll on a near-invisible dial built into the frame tints his crystal clear lenses until they're mirror-hard and unreadable. Behind the glasses, Shen's eyes are now free to roam undetected; and while he finds most of the view (waitresses, especially) quite to his liking, the decorations aren't really his style. He prefers ladies that don't glow in the dark, nightclubs without pretentions of the afterlife -- Really, Dante's stopped being cool in, what, 2060? -- and front doors that don't sport MAD scanners (no matter how tastefully decorated). Billy knows the polymer-crafted lemon squeezer up his left sleeve won't trigger anything, knows the suit-top he's wearing is baggy enough all along the arm no one will notice it, and knows he doesn't really need the gun to be dangerous; all the same, he dislikes being told to leave his hardware at home. People like Erik needed a better understanding of the people they did business with. It was a matter of principle.

But freelancers, he reminded himself with a sigh, even as his smile seemed so very sincere, his step so light, his half-dance across the floor and towards the bar so perfectly natural, Don't have the luxury of principles. You chose this life for yourself. Fuck pride, get paid. That's the motto, ain't it?

His steps are quick as he weaves his way through the crowd, his balance unaffected by the tides of humanity crashing around him. He's a red-clad speck making his way through a rainbow-and-more of glowing, wriggling, writhing, partygoers; but he's a speck making his way, all the same. A look at him wouldn't show his determination, but Billy Shen's a born liar who's polished it to an artform. His palms grope the same spots everyone else does, his smile flashes just as bright as the novacoke-highest club hoppers around him, his body moves with the music the same as everyone else's, he gracefully accepts the tongue thrust into his mouth by a bodysculpted elf wannabe who gleefully presses against him for no good reason (and leaves him checking his pockets out of street-born reflex), but his mind is on the bar, the soon-to-be-assembling team, and the payday yet to come.

Fun was fun, and he'd have some fun with this five hundred -- but not 'till he got the 'stick in hand, and had left Johnson and his elitist club far behind him. Biz was just biz. He was here for work, not pleasure.

His hands wear fingerless black-mesh gloves as he raps his knuckles twice on the bar for a bit of attention, then waves the nearest drink-tosser over. Belying his almond-shaped brown eyes, his voice doesn't hold a trace of an accent (only a hint of a slur, from the cigarette still held between his lips). "I'll take a light and a Tsingtao, in no particular order."

[TheOneRonin]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:24:37

Gary was making fat nuyen tonight. This was his first valet job, but it was cake. All he had to do was park and retrieve the vehicles of the wealthiest patrons of Bliss Nightclub. So fat, in fact, that he had made almost $250 nuyen in tips. Thus far, the guy with neon purple hair in the Ferarri Enzo Classic had been the biggest tipper.

Gary snapped out of his reverie when the latest customer approached the valet area. Gary scrunched up his nose at the arrival of the champaign color '62 Honda Civic. This certainly wasn't the type of vehicle he expected to see tonight.
The honda barreled into the valet area, barely missing Gary, and leaving tread marks as it screeched to a halt.

"What the FUCK are you looking at, you pencil neck prick!" is all Gary hears as the door opens and the driver steps out.

Fucking dickhead valet acting like he's never seen a Honda before. Spoiled rich brat probably rides in a fucking limo everywhere. Julio adjusts the cuffs on his leather jacket as he steps out of his car. He strokes his gotee and then tosses his keys to the valet. "If it comes back with so much as a scratch, I'm gonna have your fucking cock for breakfast, you shithead."

Julio's gaze drifts across the entrance to Bliss, the metal dectectors, the bouncers, and the long line of nobodies hoping to get in. Fancy fucking joint, this is. Just here to get my payoff and be done with dis pretentious shit. And maybe I can get one of those cuban import cigars from Billy...if that tight fuck can unpucker his ass cheeks long enough to give somethin away without charging.

Julio pauses at the entrance just long enough to throw a couple of "fuck yous" at the bouncers, then makes his way into bliss. In stark contrast with Billy's crowd blending, Julio is a bull in a china shop. He shoves, shoulders, and elbows his way through the crowd, his glare more than enough to shut down anyone who mouths off.

Eventually he makes his way to the staircase, lighting up a smoke and looking around to see if the rest of the team has arrived. It doesn't take long for him to spot Billy at the bar. Three chicks all over his balls aready...fucking typical. We're here for business, and he's thinking about pussy.

[Thanee]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:25:58

With her heels clacking on the floor, the elf girl pushes her lithe body through the crowd, brushing against some of the other club goers like a cat as she moves by, and listening to their bawdy chatter. It did pay off to practice walking properly in this dress for a few hours while watching the latest music videos. While the guy watching the cyberware scanner at the entrance did raise an eyebrow when the elf had entered, he just nodded her in, after casually checking the SIN broadcast from her PAN, that explained the scanner readings. Scantily clad in a racy black dress, showing more skin than anything else, with a skirt as short as they get, and a revealing open-back neckholder bodice with a deep plunging neckline, likely taped, the little cloth barely held in place by a thin strap around the neck and another two across the back, Scarlet easily fits into the crowd tonight. She actually feels quite comfortable in here, strong even. The dress is the latest parisian chic, at least she was told as much, when she had bought it from a chinese clothes shop earlier that day. The price certainly told a different story, a real dress from Paris would easily cost twenty to fifty times as much or more, but who cares for that, it sure looked that way, and most of the others here wouldn't even know where or even what Paris is, anyways. She bought it along with those damnable, but incredibly sexy black strappy sandals with 4" heels - italian, of course - but she wanted the full package, and she got it. “You look like a princess, miss!” the salesgirl had said with her heavy accent. More like a slut. At least not a cheap one. Proper etiquette stopping her from saying this thought aloud, but the salesgirl did do a rather good job in selling her this dress, and well, she did look rather hot in it for sure. You could do worse. Scarlet's left shoulder and the left arm are decorated with a phosphorescent pattern of green color, matching her beautiful eyes, just a temporary body tattoo most likely, her ash-blonde hair falling over her back and down to her slender waists with some honey-blonde highlights, extensions. There's only a hint of make-up and no lipstick, Scarlet hates that stuff. No nail varnish either. A plain bracelet around her left wrist is likewise the only jewelry she wears, the only other accessory being a small black hand bag and her slim and stylish purple sunglasses.

An hour ago, she had changed taxis at a subway station, where she deposited a shoulder bag with some more belongings, and a set of extra clothes, in between. You never knew how the evening turned out...

[Cedric Rolfsson]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:26:00

Apex walked into the Bliss without a word to the goons at the door. Their scanners could scan all they wanted he wasn't carrying any weapons that weren't provided by his genetic code.

The crowd in the club reminded him of the rich snobs who'd attended MIT&T and Harvard back in his days in Boston. Mom and Dad dropping six digits on an education none of them took advantage of while he scrambled to maintain his scholarship and work to pay his rent.

Oh well, life ain't fair, and no one ever promised you it would be.

He stood tall and headed for the bar, tall for him meant 5'8" but it was as tall as he got, to get a drink before heading up stairs. In this crowd he had to look like the ugly duckling, short curly hair cut close to his head, simple corporate casual clothes and his heavily armored sythleather jacket, no frills or neon on him. He drifted through the crowd, trying to work with the movement of the crowd instead of fighting against it. Be like water was one of Sifu's favorite aphorisms in his JKD classes, who knew it'd come in useful in trying to get to the bar in a crowded club. He lacked the muscle mass to push through the crowd, he was built like a short Elf all lean muscle mass and grace, which meant that the dancers were a real obstacle for him. Eventually he got to the bar and got his Tequilla Sunrise, then headed upstairs.

[Mister Juan]

Friday, September 05, 2070 20:22:13

The coffin’s door closed itself with a hiss, the maglock light switching from green to red as Jiro locked what meager possessions he had in the small space. He had been living out of the automated hotel for a few months now, moving from coffin to coffin as the week passed. Kenji had offered, countless times, to help him find a place to stay… but Jiro had politely decline. After having lived the pass 15 years in a cell, a coffin motel seemed luxurious enough for him. He didn’t spend that much time “home” anyways.

Both hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, his head low and eyes drifting along the sidewalk, like his feet, the Japanese ex-con slowly walked through Downtown’s international district. All around him, he could hear the sound, smell the food and see the colors of his homeland. Chiba felt so distant. He sometimes wondered if he had in fact ever been there. He took a small metallic flask from his inner jacket pocket and took a long swing from it. He swallowed in a mix of relief and pain, pushing down the memories that were starting to crawl back out of their dark resting place.

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:27:11

As he arrived to Bliss, Jiro felt alert and awakened. The walk, albeit long, had given him enough time to meditate and center himself in a calm and collected state. That and it was good for his knees and back. By passing the line of club goers who were huddled outside, the old enforcer got a few strange gazes left and right. His dark gray hair slicked back, his neatly trimmed mustache and his dark grey stripped suit with matching tie made him look more like a Japancorp sarariman than anything else. He politely bowed to each doorman as they waived him in, the scanners at the entrance picking up neither cyberware nor weapons. Jiro was a man of honour and of his words: he had said he would show up unarmed, and he had done so.

The aggressive beat of the music and flash of colours and light disoriented Jiro for a brief moment. Closing his eyes, he steadied himself, pushing all distractions aside. When he started moving through the crowd, heading for the bar, nothing touched him. He simply turned and dodged around whomever came close to him with a clear ease.

Reaching the bar, it didn’t take more than a single look to spot Billy… already surrounded by a few scantly clothed women. He took the seat next to him, acknowledging his pressing with a slight bow of the head, but nothing more.

[Critias]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:27:54
"Ahh, and here they all are now. Sorry, ladies. Business calls." Billy sends the trio -- Honey, Candy, and Lola? Or Brittany, Maria, and Angel? Ahh, who has time to remember? -- away with a smile and a stray handfull of blown kisses. One lithe hand, fingernails painted to match the girl's silver-metallic hair, strays in his pocket for a moment, leaving a BTL chip or a slap-patch or maybe just a trid number. Billy knows nothing was taken, the only puzzle is what exactly was left. "And remember, ladies, hush hush. Big secret!"

"Right on time, everyone!" He grins and takes in a mouthfull of flavorful chinese beer (he can't really stand the stuff, but keeping up appearances is important to a guy like Billy). Once their -- largely uncovered -- backs are turned, Billy's free to roll his eyes towards Julio, the first of his team-mates he makes eye contact with. The ladies were nice to look at, but not big on bright conversation. "I told those crazy ho's we were Lone Star undercover. I dunno why, man, but bitches love badges. Some chicks just get off on thinkin' they're gonna corrupt a white knight, or somethin', y'know?"

"Lady, gentlemen." At Julio's arrival, he speaks coarsely. At the rest of the team's, he similarly fits in with each new arrival; a social chameleon, whenever he puts forth the effort to try. He gives Jiro a nod -- guy doesn't talk much, so guy doesn't get talked to much -- and then flashes a brilliant smile at Scarlett's approach. Truth be told, she was almost easy to miss in this crowd. Billy tosses his head towards the staircase, exhales a careless mouthfull of faintly mint-smelling smoke. Apex was already halfway upstairs. "Shall we?"

[TheOneRonin]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:28:07

Julio frowns at the departing club girls. "What...you kidding me? I wouldn't touch that pussy with your dick, Billy. Now blowjobs...that's another story. And if they can't suck cock, I'm sure you can give 'em a few pointers."

"C'mon yous guys...I got shit to do...let's wrap this bitch up and go the fuck home."

"Oh...and Apex, I got a line on some fucking PI-shit work that might be coming down the pipe. Some northside "goomba" thinks his old lady is fucking around on him. From what I hear this schmuck has more money than sense, so we could make out like fucking bandits. We'll talk lata."

[Thanee]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:28:34

“Let's take the stairway to ‘heaven’, we don't want to let Erik wait with the party, or do we?”

Blending in with the club-goer crowd, Scarlet checks her slinky figure in one of the mirrors on the way and adjusts her dress and hair one last time for a perfect fit, before slowly moving upstairs, smiling like a fan that's just going backstage to meet the novahot star.

Truth be told, the elf was only half-pretending there, and half-looking forward to some partying that night... of course, she was also expecting, that the night would take a completely different direction, but she had taken precautions for that already. Scarlet was too long in the business to not always expect the unexpected.

[Critias]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:28:49

"Y'know, technically," Billy quips as he -- behind mirrored lenses -- enjoys the view from four steps behind (and below) Scarlet, "We've got a little over a minute before we'd be late, and he'd be 'waiting' for us. We're in no huge hurry."

All the same, the grinning elf makes his own way up the staircase with everyone else. He's got his imported beer in one hand, the other hand stuffed into a pants pocket, and his shoulders slouched to show just how lazy-casual-unhurried he is (a pose not uncommon with the lanky 'runner, but one he can toss aside to take a combat stance plenty quickly). "I got five noo says we find Erik in a white lounge lizard suit."

[Vegas]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:28:49

As you ascend the staircase up to Heaven your eyes take in the spectacle before you. At the top of the stairs is a landing, filled with the crème of the crop of the beautiful people. All are vying for a nod from the bouncers watching the doors, a chance to be let into VIP for the evening. Behind frosted glass doors edged in chrome are where Erik is waiting for each of you. Patrons try to be discreet when they try to peer into the floor to ceiling mirrored windows for a glimpse of what celebrity is partying in Heaven that night. It’s a Friday night and they all know someone has to be inside.

As the five of you approach, the bouncers look you each over and instead of motioning you over to the cattle call that was growing to the left of the doors they part the way with a nod. Instantaneously there’s a buzz that you can hear and feel over the din of the club’s sound system.

“…are they?”

“Someone special…”

“…In a TriDeo movie, I think.”

As the words hit your ears you can’t help but straighten up a bit, try to look more cool, add a little swagger to your walk as you step through the now open doors.

Brilliant white light fills your vision, shadows dance off chrome accents as people move about the space. The volume level drops about 5 levels as the doors close behind the five of you. The mood is calm and subdued, whispers of conversation overheard amongst low-level ambiance music. Groups of people mill about and gather near the windows which overlook the club below and give a spectacular view from above. Plush white velvet booths filled with down pillows are filled with the who’s-who of Seattle. The Sim Starlet Anika Ryan is entertaining her entourage in one oversized booth while a couple of talking heads from competing stations are canoodling in the corner over a bottle of wine.

As Erik spots you walking in he shoos away the groupies hanging around his booth and waves you over. When you get close he rises to his feet and welcomes you with a perfect-white-toothed grin to take a seat and asks if he can get anyone a drink to kick off the celebration. He’s dressed to the nines in a perfectly tailored suit in a soft subtle shade of grey, offset with a pale plum tie and white shirt. He could almost fit the part of St. Peter up here in Heaven.

“I trust they gave you no trouble coming up here?”

[Critias]

"I was close," Billy barely whispers with his head half-turned towards the team, then hiding it behind a dazzling smile as he pulls his hands from his pockets -- what magic trick had he pulled to make that half-bottle of cheap beer vanish before the team's grand entrance? -- and gives Erik a polite wave. His spine's straighter, his demeanor openly friendly, his too-cool slouching a thing of the past. It's time, quite plainly, for Billy to do what Billy does; face for the team.

"No, no, everything was fantastic! They didn't even stop us from getting in down stairs, much less up here. It's a great place, only my second time here and my first upstairs, of course. Intense!" Billy's smile is poster-perfect, warm, personable. There's not a hint of the gutter-runner's disdain for someone like Erik, who's got to rub the noses of his temporary employees in their lifestyles just to make himself feel better. No sign of his irritation at the dress code or his annoyance at the forced no-weapons policy, no sneer at their polished surroundings and the brittle egos sharing a room with paid professionals. For all the world, it looks like Billy showed up to chat with Eric and enjoy the club, and getting paid is just the icing on the cake.

In short, he oozes personable gratefullness; the sort of thing Erik's been getting his entire life, and has come to expect. "I don't know what strings you had to pull to get us in, but I wish I'd shown up earlier just to enjoy the place!"

[Mister Juan]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:29:06

Jiro slowly walked up the stairs, standing well last behind the other four runners. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them to be in his back; on the contrary. Truth be told, his knees were simply giving him the hardest of time, creaking and cracking painfully as he made his way up the stairs. Some shady and sketchy street doc had mentioned heavy calcium deposits on his joints… but Jiro had never expected it to be so painful. Nevertheless, the old Japanese man did his best to hide it, gripping a firm hand around the railing of the stairs to steady his ascent. When he finally reached the top, he held a sigh of relief in.

When they finally made their way into the VIP lounge, Jiro was thankful for the subdued atmosphere; his ears were still ringing from the music, and his tired eyes were still blinded. Jiro wasn’t just getting old; he felt old.

The old Yakuza man didn’t even give a side gaze to see who else was in the private area of the club. He did not care. It was none of his concern. He was here to perform a single task, and meddling in the affairs of others wasn’t… ethical.

“Konban wa” said Jiro in a coarse voice, as he bowed to Erik as he would have for a respected superior.

“Your invitation” he straightened back up “is very gracious and appreciated.

He bowed once more, this time in a sign of thankfulness.

[Vegas]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:29:31

"Yes, yes. Please have a seat there's business and a celebration to get underway." Erik jestured to the booth surrounding him, open seats to either side of him. He's got a complete aire of confidance, if not slightly cockiness as well. He doesn't expect trouble since he's holding up his end of the bargain making the payment for a job completed and more! He's even picking up the tab for tonight.

As you all take your spots around the booth, Erik waves the waitress over to the group and looks at you all expectedly.

"What can she get you? Tonight it's on your employer!" He says with a possibly genuine (for him) laugh.

[Critias]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:29:49

"I'll just have whatever he's having," Billy says to the waitress with a smile as he takes a seat. He's got to be agreeable, and while he's got a whole list of tasty drinks in mind, Erik seems like the sort of Mister Johnson that'd enjoy one of his 'runners emulating him, just a bit.

[TheOneRonin]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:30:23

"Gimme a scotch on the rocks...and none of that cheap shit either," spat Julio to the waitress. He was growing more uncomfortable and less patient by the minute.

Why can't these fuckheads get down to fuckin business? All this bullshit is wasting my fucking time.

Julio looks over at the rest of team who all seem to be doing better than he was. Billy was schmoozing like he always does, Scarlet was being quiet and listening intently, Apex had that distant look he gets sometimes when his mind is "elsewhere", and Jiro, strangely enough, was looking right at Julio. Jiro gives him a slight nod, likely in acknowledgement of Julio's discomfort.

After everyone gives the waitress their drink orders, Julio frowns in Erik's direction. "We're all here with fucking bells on, so you mind getting da show on da fucking road, Mr. Suriel?" Sadly, that delivery was one of Julio's more polite ones.

[Critias]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:30:52

Billy turns a glare at Julio into a good-natured laugh before Mister Johnson gets a look at him. "Ah, the impatience of youth."

Nevermind, naturally, that of the two, Billy's the younger. "Sorry about that, Mister Jay, but you know how nice places like this can get someone all eager to finish with business and go spend, spend, spend."

He considers, for a moment, kicking Julio under the table. For once, they'd had a run go smooth as butter. They'd made the pick-up without shots fired, they'd gotten it across town without incident, and they'd dropped it off, safe and sound, without anyone being maimed. All that was left was buying drinks on someone else's tab, and making small talk while drinking those drinks, waiting for credsticks. Billy might not love the bar, but he loved someone else picking up the tab; loved it enough, at least, to just enjoy the ride.

"Some of us are just more willing to pay our own way than to ride on someone else's generosity, I guess." Billy knew Julio had actually gone out of his way to be polite just then, but biz was biz. Sometimes the best way to make it through a Meet -- and man, why hadn't Julio figured it out yet? -- was to just shut the fuck up. "So maybe it would be best to just pay Julio first thing, and not worry about picking up his drinks."

Billy's smile flashes again, bright and snow-pure. "Then the rest of us can sit around, if you want, and maybe talk about future business propositions, or anything else you might have in mind, sir."

[Thanee]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:29:47

Scarlet moves over to Erik giving him a quick hug and a peck, like the sim stars do on trideo shows. Seems to fit the atmosphere. Then she seperates herself from him equally quick, showing a big smile and turns to the waitress.

“Martini Dry, ice-cold. Thanks!”

Afterwards, Scarlet takes a seat in the back of the booth, where she has a good view on the surroundings and the other people, not having been in such classy environments a lot, the elven woman is rather curious.

“Nice place for a little celebration.”

[Cedric Rolfsson]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:30:00

Apex watched the mana patterns swirl around the table, each person's aura touching and connecting irregardless of their meat bodies, as they interacted. The emotional swirl of colors and patterns was fascinating, like watching some cosmic Artist creating an everchanging canvas. He could loose himself in the infinitely intricate patterns and be forever enraptured.

With a mental wrench the young mage brought his attention back to the man they were meeting. The fixer person's aura indicated a general honesty though, which was the main point Apex was interested in at this time. He ignored the watcher spirits and the other astral beings, they were like texture on the canvas to him, interesting but not the main point.

The meat form of another aura stood at the table, clearly female and showing signs of false interest to hide her ennui at her banal job. Apex returned his focus to the meat world and looked at the waitress.

"Oh, yes, um. . .how about a gin and tonic with a twist?"

[Mister Juan]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:30:23

For a few seconds, which seemed to stretched in an eternity, Jiro contemplated Erik’s offer of a drink. Since he had woken up, he had craved nothing but a drink. Contrary to most people who ended up like him, the old Japanese man didn’t have a poison of choice: he simply drank. A lot. Often. Almost every night he would drown himself to sleep. Throughout the years, it had been the only way for him to deal with his own demons. The rare times he didn’t pass out in his coffin, or in the backroom of the shop, he’d here her cries of help. Over and over.

Finally, he snapped back to reality, politely waving off the offer of a “drink” in favor of a simple mineral water.

Everyone around him looked as if they belonged there and felt completely at ease. Jiro himself had sat through numerous meetings, but always in calm, quiet and discreet places. The Yakuza was not known for its flash and pomp. Of all his fellow teammates, only Julio seemed to feel as awkward as he did.

[Vegas]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:30:52

If Julio's words were meant to raise Erik's temper, or even get him to move faster, neither are the outcome. He just smiles a knowing smile in Julio's direction, nodding along with Billy's words.

Once the waitress got everyone's orders she slipped away from the table and requested the drinks from the bartenders. It seemed that but a moment had passed before she was passing everyone's drinks out around the booth, finishing by placing two glasses of Fix+ Vodka on the rocks before Billy and Erik. She disappears from the table as soon as her job is complete, almost fluttering to the next table to serve.

When the girl is out of earshot, Erik clears his throat and picks up his fresh glass.

"To a well-run show. A competent team, a smooth job, and…” He reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat, withdrawing his commlink and holding it in his hand he instantly transfers to each of you the remainder of your pay. “To getting paid.” His perfect white teeth flash in the cheesy practiced smile he shoots your way as he raises his glass up to each of you.

[Critias]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:31:12

"I'll drink to that." Billy grins at the low-key vibration over his heart as he raises his glass; his commlink verifying an incoming funds transmission. He idly wishes he'd gone ahead and asked for an Ng Ka Py -- Erik's drink of choice doesn't hold a candle to Shen's favorite Chinese brandy -- but beggars can't be choosers. Or, rather, beggars doubling as suck-ups to their temporary employers can't be choosers.

[Thanee]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:31:17

“Cheers!”

Scarlet raises her glass to the toast.

[Vegas]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:31:31

Erik took a healthy sip of his Fix+ on the rocks to seal the "toast" and looks to each of you and is about to say something when something out of the corner of his eye catches his attention, namely an attractive raven-haired beauty in a skin-tight white leather jumpsuit.

Turning half of his attention back to the group while his eyes are still locked on the woman he grabs his glass again.

"Well friends, I once again thank you for a job well done. I'm certain that with your success, there will soon be more jobs around the corner for you. Tonight I ask that you stay and enjoy yourselves, drink up, dance the whole nine yards as it's on your employer's tab. Unfortunately, my next appointment has arrived and I must go tend to them."

He says this all with some mix of sincerity and witha tone that doesn't make him come off completely like a rude dick. Erik rises to his feet and scoots past Billy and Julio before he's free of the group. He turns back to you all and gives you a bit of a mock bow and a too-slick smile before he makes a bee-line to the raven-haired woman at the bar.

[Critias]

Friday, September 05, 2070 21:31:51
"I wouldn't mind an appointment like that," Billy says through a grin and with a puff of minty smoke, "Instead of sitting at a table with you, Julio."

With payment made, and their employer distracted, Shen goes back to slouching, and talking for what passes like normal for him. He finishes most of what's left in his glass, tempted by someone else's tab, but still not really as comfortable in a joint like this as he is at Matchstick's. He glances around the table, "You guys feel like dancing the night away at this high-class joint, or splittin'?"