Up from the Bottom, Wipe Those Tears and Pass the Ammo Options

[pragma]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:09
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Greg curtailed his response about what exactly he was doing and instead said: "I'll see what I can see."

With that he leaned back into the spot of wall he had claimed and breated deeply letting the stink of the place rush into his lungs. He found himself in the astral miasma that was the room and cautiously flitted through the wall to his left in order to peek into the astral hallway unmolested.

A careful look at the auras of the two occupants of the hall revealed that neither of them had cyberware and that neither had magic. Not significant threats. The emotional read from the first was startlingly acute - greed and fear. Greg felt like it was a dead giveaway.

Returning to his body, he snapped his eyes open and started fishing around for his taser as he said: "We've got two uncybered, non-magical types in the hall. One's wearing a cowboy hat and feeling greedy and afraid, the other is pretty happy."

Rising to his feet and ensuring that the gun was ready he said, "If I had to guess I'd say its some posse chief who's coming to try to extort more money. Given your last run-in with them, it might be wise for me to take the door. I'll let you make the call."

[BlackHat]

Somewhere on Campus
Tuesday 8/19/70 16:59:24
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

*click*

Adam was suddenly disconnected from Sledge's comm. He didn't know if it was because she hung up on him, because they were hiding out in a lead room, or because Louie's goons finally bombed them - but his job didn't change very much either way. The way this day had been going, it wouldn't have surprised him if it was the bomb, but he was certain that he had at least made a connection. At least not having that conversation with her saved him from explaining what he had been doing all day that wasn't getting gear together.

He drove his bike back towards his dorm-room, dialing a number he had gotten earlier today.

*ring ring*
<<"I don't recognize this number.">>
(a little tired) <<"...Wouldn't expect you to.">>
(a little agitated)<<"Who the hell is this?">>
(apologetic) <<"I apologize. My name is Smith. We have mutual acquaintances.">>
<<"...This line secure?">>
<<"My end is. Encryption program is handshaking with yours as we speak.... there.">>
<<"Smith... That don't sound like none of my 'acquaintances', you sure you don't got the wrong number?... Wait, Smith... that new mouthpiece the Balducci brothers got running around?">>
<<"I make it a point not to discuss my previous or current employers. I deal with a number of people that value their privacy. That said, can you think of another way I would have gotten this number?">>
<<"Yeah, I've heard of you. Some crazy shit, man. They're still talking about that auto-taxi stunt. How's Bruno doing?">>
<<"Not bad. At least, if he's complaining, it aint to me.">>
<<"Heard you had a run in with some Russians that didn't go so good.">>
<<"Some people... no manners at all. Not exactly sure what became of them. My face has healed, but my pride is scarred.">>
<<"So, what can I do for you? Franco wouldn't usually have someone like you do the talking unless he wants something he knows he isn't going to get.">>
<<"Franco doesn't know I'm calling you.">>
<<"Oh yeah? You need something then, or is this a personal call?">>
<<"I need to get a hold of a few things. Like, tonight, if possible. I've got a big date, and don't have time to get the shit together, myself. I owe a couple of favors to some people, and would rather not let them down, ya know?">>
<<"What are we talking about? My boys are fast, but this ain't a pizza delivery service.">>
(reassuring voice) <<"Disguise kits. Like 6. Two of them super-sized. Guns. Nothing big. Couple of shotguns should do the trick, but I don't want them tagged or traceable. Ammo too, better make it a box. Oh, and if you have any high-end comm-gear on hand, I could put it to good use.">>
<<"That it? Most of that shit is legal, man.">>
<<"Never said it wouldn't be. I just don't want any footprints leading back to me, and am in kind of a hurry. If you can help me out, I think I can make it worth your while, and will have a couple bigger orders coming down the pipeline that should be much more interesting to you, I think. If this deal works out, I'm going to be looking for a real fixer. Anyways, you interested?>>
<<"I dunno. Seems hardly worth the effort, I was going to go out and see that new movie tonight. Tell you what, I've got some coupons around here someplace, you can run down to the sporting-goods store and save me the trip.">>
<<"No worries, Fiasco, if you're not interested, I've got a list of mob fixers two pages long who might be free tonight - I just figured I'd give you first-shot. I like your work.">>
<<"I appreciate the thought, really. Thing is, five thousand credits of gear is only going to keep my attention long enough for you to make this interesting. I don't usually start my van for less than twenty.">>
<<"I see. Well, like I said, one of the trolls I'm working for is interested in upgrading his gun. I'm talking about machine guns, internal smartlinks, skinlinks, the works. After ammo, gas-vents, and other mods, you're looking at twenty large, right there."
Johnny: "Okay, so I'm interested. Call it 25-K for the whole package and we'll call it a deal.">>
<<"Hold up. First of all, there's no way you're getting that kind of firepower on such short notice, that's why I'm not asking for it. I'll give you three-thousand for what I asked for, tonight. The deal is, if this meet goes smoothly, and isn't a complete 'Fiasco', I'll put you in touch with this team when they're looking to break the bank on some new toys. I'm looking to add a local fixer to my Seattle contacts - if you wanna be it, this is your audition. If not, we both know you've got a lot of competition and I have a few hours to shop around.">>
<<"Three thousand?!? I couldn't buy that shit at the store, for that.">>
<<"Nor do I expect you to. Look, are you trying to tell me that you don't have two shotguns laying around that warehouse of yours, collecting dust? Its not like you paid for them, so slide them my way and I'll get you something to wet your whistle until the big order comes through.">>
<<"...">>
<<"... and think of it this way, since this ain't a mob-deal, we can keep it under the table, and you end up with a lot more in your pocket at the end of the day."
Johnny: "Alright, fine. I'll see what I can do. Where can I meet you."
Smith (thinking about the damn good question, and not wanting to be ambushed): "I've got a dinner-date. Why don't you work on getting that crap together, and I'll call you when I'm done for the pickup.">>
(suspicious) <<"Oh, and come alone.">>
<<"Right, like either of us is stupid enough to try anything. This might not be a mob-deal, but neither of our bosses would be pleased if it turned ugly. See you tonight, Johnny.">>

Adam finished his conversation as he was rounding the corner to the street his dorm was on. He had plenty of time to prepare for his meeting with Francseca, and had managed to talk Johnny Vasco into selling him those items for a little less than he had prepared himself to have to spend. It looked like every Nuyen was going to count. All in all, not a bad few minutes worth of work. That conversation felt a lot more like the type of stuff he had signed up for, with Franco. It reminded him, quite clearly, of what his life had become recently - a constant stream of bullshitting. He had managed to make a pretty good living by offering people things he didn't have, yet. This whole Shadowrunning mission was just another example. Here, for all he knew, the team had met a horrible end in some wifi-blocked zone, and he was already selling their interest to local fixers, and was about to try to sell their future labor to the very same mob they were on the run from.

Outside the Westen Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:26:24
Mr. Smith - Johnson
PAN - Hidden

Adam had time to get a shower, get dressed in his "Mr. Smith" suit, and admire himself in the mirror before heading out for his dinner-date. He was very glad to ditch the "college kid" hoodie look, and don something a bit more fitting to the role he was playing. He considering bringing his briefcases of toys with him, but decided that showing up with a buttload of illegal gear, or a ton of cash-money, could put him in an awkward position if the hotel security was tight, or if Ms. DelGato wasn't nearly as friendly as he hoped she would be. He secured his concealed pistol under his suit-jacket, switched out his stack of bills for another, and then hid both of his suitcases in his bedroom closet. With a final, apprehensive, look towards his room, he headed out.

He didn't want to let that money leave his sight. Adam knew he was worse than dead if anything happened to it. Most of it was already promised away, and it wasn't even his. From the way the morning had gone, he wasn't even on schedule to be earning it. Still, he had been walking a fine line with the mob for a month or two now, and no one had bothered to raid his dorm-room looking for cash yet. He concluded that it should be safe for another couple of hours. Then he would probably end up giving most of it away - at least, by then, the team better damn well be planning to do the job. Otherwise Adam would be in the market for a last-minute replacement.

He took his bike across Seattle to the Westin Hotel, and found a fortuante place to park. As he approached the building, he put on his most confident smile and prepared to get into the role of Mr. Smith, again.

[DireRadiant]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:12
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

Her hand flickered and tossed out a small roll of scrip to Fortunato. Then it flashed back into her overalls and came out with the shocker as the ork woman shifted quietly along the wall out of view whilst murmuring quietly, with one hand flashed quickly with all fingers extended. "count, give all clear with left hand rubbing nose, or else I'm rolling through door."

Sledge settled on the balls of her feet and waited.

[pragma]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:15
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Fortunato caught the cash and nodded to Sledge. He placed his taser at his hip, lined up with the door and cracked it open wide enough to see the occupants of the hall, keeping a foot posted at the door.

Eyeing the cowboy hat he said "Can I help you gentlemen?"

He kept one hand out of sight, opened wide with five fingers outstretched.

[adamu]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:30


The young man in the battered cowboy hat looked an old twenty. On his chest was pinned a badge that said "Sheriff." The grinning teen behind him wore a "Deputy" star.

Beyond the hat and the badges, they neither dressed nor talked like cowboys. The Sheriff said, "Sorry about your ride. You paid, that shouldn't've gone down. Wanted to come up and say, you need anything from around here, it can be got."

[adamu]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:29:58


The liveried doormen opened the door with a deferent "Good evening, sir."

Halfway across the exquisitely carpeted lobby, the concierge spotted him and came out from behind his desk to meet him. "Thank you for coming sir. Let me escort you personally."

Ushered past the bank of wood-paneled elevator doors to room filled with velvet-upholstered antique sofas and lined with leather-bound books, which contained a single elevator.

Ears popped as the box carried the two men rapidly to the top of the downtown high-rise.

Passed off like a relay baton to the Emerald Room's maitre d', "The lady is right this way, sir. Can I get you anything?"

Double-doors opened, staff tactfully retreating, Francesca delGato stood with her back to him, leaning over a balcony rail looking east at the Cascades, the wind blowing her black hair, her form perfectly sheathed in a verdant ankle-length evening dress that perfectly matched the eyes he saw as she turned to greet him.

"My my," she said, clapping her hands in delight in a way that made him think she'd jumped up and down, although her feet had in fact not moved at all, "you do clean up well."

[BlackHat]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:31:12
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

When entering, Smith answered the maitre d', ordering a drink that seemed appropriate to the occasion. He was then lead into past the double doors and into the room where Francesca had been waiting. The effect was stunning. Where he has spent almost every day pretending to be a suave professional charismatic, this woman was the real deal. That probably spoke volumes about their respective bosses, as well, and Smith had to remind himself that although she has shown respect and good intentions, she worked for someone at least as scary as the man he worked for - probably more. He somehow doubted that the head of the Bigio family ran things out of the back of a strip-club.

"My my... you do clean up well."

"...and you somehow manage to make an impressive entrance, even when you're not the one entering." Smith smiled, and crossed the room to join her by the balcony. Once there, his mouth upturned into a smirk and he gestured at his suit. "You caught me at a particularly 'rushed' moment this morning. If I had known that I would be meeting someone like you in the seedy back-alleys of Meredith, I would have taken more care with my appearance." He paused for a moment, before saying, off-handedly, "... It appears that I have managed to get the attention of quite a few people, today."

[adamu]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:31:20


"Well, you got mine. And you know what? As tight a spot as you were in, I wasn't worried. I don't know why. Just a feeling. Glad I was right."

She took him by the arm - or rather somehow maneuvered her arm into being taken by Smith - and led him - or rather allowed him to lead her - back into the private salon. His drink - times two - was waiting, although he hadn't noticed anyone enter or leave.

[BlackHat]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:32:44
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith was happy to lead Francesca to their table. Once she sat, he took his seat, as well. As he sat down he felt his muscles ache, but tried not to let it show. "I wasn't particularly worried, either," he said, stretching the truth a bit, "I actually expected some sort of attack to come, hours earlier, before we ever got to Renton. That probably would have been less inconvenient for you, and certainly wouldn't have required your personal appearance, but then you and I never would have met." He lifted up his glass and took a sip, briefly considering the possibility of poison or betreyal, but going with his gut, as usual.

"I'm sure a great deal of the complexities of your work environment are lost to me, but I find it curious that you were rooting for me, while a number of your 'buisness partners' seemed to want me dead." Smith was pretty sure he knew the answer to this already, but figured he would give Francesca the opportunity to clarify, if she planned to, and maybe let on if she knew anything about his 'day-job'.

[pragma]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 14:40:12
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Fort pretended to sneeze, bringing his left hand from the death count to his nose. He let the door swing open a little wider, his foot still planted at the base.

"Excuse me. Yeah, we're sorry about your kid, but our security system doesn't pull punches. I don't keep track of our day-to-day stuff. Let me get my assistant."

He typed casually:

<<@Sledge: You heard the guy, anything we need? Also, might calm folks down and help the 'ole massah' image if you brought over a couple of brews.>>

[DireRadiant]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:47:40
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

She slid the Defiance away, and left the hammer against the wall and walked over to the box fo self chilling soy-beer. Snatchng a pack she brought them over to the door.

<<@fortunato :: Can't trust them, but it's worth the risk asking them to be eyes and ears, it's actually possible they will warn us. Less likely to mess with us if they think they are working for us.>>

Sledge popped a can top and held out the foaming soybrew.

[adamu]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:08


The Sheriff hesitated for the briefest of ticks, but Sledge saw it the way she'd seen it a hundred times before - I don't drink with tuskers. But fear and greed are a powerful combination, and the ganger took the beer with a nod, although he didn't drink from it.

The moment was broken, however, when the new Deputy - Sledge could see now it was the same badge the other thug had worn - accepted his beer and blurted - "Never seen no keeb with a full beard like that."

He was rewarded by the Sheriff snatching the beer out of his hand and breaking the bottle over his head. "Shut the FUCK up!" The Deputy hadn't broken under the blow, and now his boss screamed at him - "Get out! I don't want to see you. Go!"

Turning back to the shadowrunners, he said - "Sorry about that. Anyway, we're a real pro operation, and we got this turf sewn up tight like a virgin's twat. So anything we can do for you, you just say."

[adamu]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:32:55


She smiled impishly in response to his probe, cocked her head and said, "First, we eat. Order for me?" She leaned forward to push a leather-bound menu across the table at him, revealing just enough cleavage to let him know she was hiding far more than she was revealing.

[pragma]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:15
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

Fortunato kept his face impassive but sighed inwardly. It wasn't the first time in his life he'd been told that he was the first keeb to look some way. He got called on being overweight, on having facial hair and occasionally on being elbow deep in some perp's blood, bone dust and shit. None of them carried "the grace and elegance" of his heritage.

Sledge, like all orcs, grew thick skin early. They formed revolutionary groups, fought back and clawed their way to equality. Fortunato had no idea how to deal with people just expecting you to be better than them, especially when you weren't.

He brought himself back to the present. This was far from the first time he had worked with racists.

"Here's the deal, we love information. We're willing to pay for you guys to keep eyes on your turf and tell us what's going down. I'll give you 100 :nuyen: to put you on retainer," he pulled a single hundred out of his pocket, "and we'll give you a bigger bonus if you tell us anything really useful. Just keep your eyes peeled and keep us posted on unusual stuff."

Proffering the bill to the gang leader he asked "deal?"

[adamu]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:25


The Sheriff swallowed hard, but soldiered on, his confidence growing - "Lot of eyes on the street, man. Lot of mouths to feed."

[DireRadiant]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:08
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

Her hand had twitched with the sudden movement, but recognizing it wasn't directed at her, Sledge held still, then slowly backed away to make herself less visible.

A wave of revulsion flashed through her. If anyone had come at her crew, no matter how stupid or accidently, she knew, in her bones, she knew there wouldn't be a knock on the door. The first thing anyone would have known would be the charges going off as the floor supports got knocked out and the people in the room got droped a floor or two. Then send in the crew to clean up. She hadn't been thinking about it at all, but now they were here, and all they cared about was the money they could get, and nothing, nothing about one of their own getting killed. Not just one, but two.

... breathe...

There was work to do, and no matter how much she felt like screaming at this man she kept it all inside.

[pragma]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:30
Fortunato - Support Mage
PAN - Hidden (Contacts, Earbuds, Smartlink)
Astrally Inactive

"That's what the bonus is for. Good information gets all those mouths fed and might get you repeat business." He peeled off another hundred. "Because I'm feeling generous we'll give you this to ensure proper performance on this first contract. Future contracts will be negotiated at the proper time."

The kid looked ready to talk again. Fortunato cut him off and idly checked the sights on his pistol: "We've already been generous twice today, don't push your luck."

[DireRadiant]

Hotel Hell, Third Floor -- Posse Turf, Sophocles, Redmond
Tuesday 8/19/70 21:48:08
Sledge - Hammer
PAN - Hidden

200 was going to be well worth it if she didn't have to end up dealing with the Posse, or at least if it kept them out of her way.

[BlackHat]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:33:15
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

"Certainly."

It actually bothered him. He didn't mind ordering for the two of them, but Smith had a feeling that this was more of a test than a favor. He took the offered menu and glanced at it, and realised why.

It was all in French and, a little to his dismay, there wern't any prices next to any of the incrutable names. There wern't even any pictures. From what he had seen in movies, this was pretty typical of high-class exclusive places like this. It might have been the college-boy in him, but he prefered eating out with his friends at a local sports-bar to trap-laden social maze that he found himself in the middle of, currently.

Luckily, advancements in AR had come a long way, and thanks to his connection with the local node, his contact lenses overlayed some english names. Not that those were really any more helpful - but the descriptions at least told him what would be in it. Smith was pretty sure that a woman like Francesca was used to this sort of place, and would be able to maintain her poise and dignity eating just about any of the delicacies this place had to offer, but if they brought out a trail of snails, or something, Smith might falter.

He paused and took a moment to look up at Francesca and smiled. "I'm glad you were in charge of picking the location." He glanced around the private room. "This place is amazing." He then went back to the task at hand.

Reading over the menu also reminded him of how long it had been since he had eaten. Grabing a soda this morning and a bag of chips during class didn't really do anything other than stop his stomach from rumbling. Now, though, he was actually looking forward to food. Unfortunatly, high-class food was often more decorative than functional.

Not wanting to spend too much time examining the menu, he saw a few things that interested him, and surrendered. He closed the menu and set it down. Immediately the doors to the room opened and a waiter entered, crossed the room, and took the menues from him, and said, "Bonsoir. Est-ce que vous voudrez quelque chose à boire? Un apéritif?" His french was perfect.

Unsurprisingly, the AR subtitles didn't translate the waiter's words. Smith would have needed an expensive program for that sort of real-time processing. In all likelyhood, however, this was just part of the atmosphere. Smith was certain that the waiter spoke English, and would handle the order just fine.

Despite not knowing what was just said to him, he had eaten at a restaurant before, and had a pretty good idea what it was he needed to say. The waiter had probably either offered them wine, appetizers, or asked them if they wanted to hear the chef's special. He had a drink, and, at a lot of restaurants, the special was whatever they needed to get rid of before it went bad, and he didn't speak French, so he figured he would plug on with his order in English. He didn't want to start with a 'yes' or 'no' since it sounded like some sort of question, and he didn't know what he would be answering.

He was also certain he would butcher the order (dispite picking things that were pretty easy to say), and that the waiter (motivated primarily by his desire for gratuity) would say nothing. Francesca, on the other hand, could either think less of him because he didn't speak French or, more likely, get the impression that he was hoping to make, which was that he was a confident kind of guy who didn't mind trying new things, and adapting to situations the best he could. Since she had no reason to think he spoke French, and he didn't see how that was relevant to anything at all, he assumed this was more the sort of thing she would be looking to pick up on - and he aimed to please.

"We would like to start with Brie sur Toast for hors d'oeuvers. Then, I'll have the Beef Crêpe Maison, and the lady will have the Chicken Crêpe Riviera."

[adamu]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:33:50


"Exquisite selection, sir," the waiter replied, changing seamlessly into English. Might I suggest the Maytag salad with Sinsearach pears as a perfect complement? We also have sauteed mahi mahi just in from the Kingdom as a suggested fish course. It is prepared in a sublime plum and wasabi sauce."

Smith wasn't sure how all this looked to Francesca, but it seemed that this waiter was doing an excellent job of smoothly filling in everything he'd missed without making him look bad. Now that was service.

Order taken, however, the man in the apron dropped the bomb. "Shall I send in the sommelier, sir?"

[BlackHat]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:33:55
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

What the hell is a 'sommelier'? How about you send in 'our food'?

Smith was mostly just getting tired of this game, and took a long sip of his drink to buy himself a few seconds. The bill was climbing, and he still had no idea who Francesca expected to cover it, so every addition put him one step closer to having to pull off the most legendary dine-and-dash in history. Actually, as he sat there thinking about that, the idea actually started to sound pretty cool - if even remotely possible. Either way, as nice as this place was, it wasn't, as Adam and his college buddies would say, "worth it".

Like most high-class restaurants, it was pricy and fancy because their clientele had money to burn, and a desire to be treated like royalty. Adam had neither of those things. He just wanted a chance to meet Francesca, and maybe see what she knew, or if she could be a source of income in the future. She was hot, but clearly high maintenence. Adam had already ordered far more food than he would be able to eat. Most of it would probably be gross, too.

Changing his tactic, he gestured at Francesca, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for her to answer the question, if she liked. He figured, whatever the waiter just offered, he didn't want it. Maybe she did, maybe not. There was no point in making either of them pay for it, if not. She probably understood him, and if she made the decision about whether or not they wanted it, right now, or at all, she might feel that much more inclined to put this date on the Bigio family tab.

[adamu]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:34:09


Catching his eye, Francesca seemed to read his expression perfectly. With obvious approval in her eyes, she said, "How 'bout just a couple of Cherry Cokes, Enrique? After all, girls in the presence of dark and dangerous men need to keep their wits about them, now don't they?"

"Very good, mademoiselle."

Once the man was gone, she placed her elbows on the table, interlaced her fingers, and rested her chin on them. Light from the muted chandelier above seemed to dance in her green irises. "So tell me one interesting thing about yourself that has nothing to do with what you do for a living. Oh, and your name would be nice, too. Unless it really is Sugar Lips."

[BlackHat]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:35:15
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

Smith winced at the nickname. "No, that's just Sledge's pet-name for me. Not that we ever...." He flashed a coy look. "She says I talk to much. I guess she likes calling me that better than 'boss' or the oh-so-anonymous 'Mr. Johnson'. I don't blame her. I can't really complain. I guess its better than 'big mouth' or 'chatterbox' or something like that." He put on a rather large smile. "As for my name, unlike yourself, I don't have the luxury of reputation and association to protect my privacy. And, despite you being nothing but nice to me today, you do work for the same team that tried to kill me this morning. Then again, if a teenage girl was able to figure it out in less than a day, I'm sure you're resourceful enough to do the same, if you really want to know. In the meantime, you're welcome to come up with your own pet-name for me."

"As for something interesting and non-professional...." Adam thought about it, and came to the realisation that too much of his life had been consumed lately by his job. Between the fact that he didn't want to let her know too much about himself, nor about what it is he actually does for a living, he found it hard to come up with anything interesting to tell her. However, he had a strong feeling that this was another little test. The question was actually very job-interview-ish. If he couldn't come up with anything, he risked seeming admittantly dull, but if he jumped at the opportunity to talk about himself, he would seem like a self-centered braggard. Finally, he finished his sentence with something he thought might be 'interesting' to her. His facial expression was uncharicteristicly serious and thoughtful. "Well, for the last few months, I've been living a lie. That might not actually sound too interesting, to you - the interesting part is that I'm mostly doing it for my own benifit. I need to believe that lie more than anyone else." He paused and then added, "After I took care of things this morning, I spent all afternoon pretending to be someone else, so that I could continue to believe that there is still hope for me."

After his (hopefully) cryptic admission, his serious look faded, replaced by a smile, and he gestured towards Francesca, "Your turn. Why don't you tell me something interesting, that has nothing to do with what you do for a living?"

[adamu]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:35:35


"Oh, but I don't do anything for a living, so I guess anything is fair game, wouldn't you agree, Sugar Lips?" She had an uncanny way of letting her facial expression convey exactly what she meant - uncanny, or highly developed. Right now her mischievously twinkling eyes were saying, If you don't give me anything else to call you, I'll have to settle for that.

The sodas came, along with the hors d'oeuvre.

"So, as you can see, dining out is about my favorite thing to do. I could show you some really nice places here in the 'plex. This place is okay, but I didn't choose it for the food. Oh, and I like art. Looking, not making. And sometimes I like to just sit back and think about things. Maybe you should do the same, since you're coming to some awfully half-baked conclusions about this morning." She delicately bit into her brie on toast.

[BlackHat]

Westin Hotel, Downtown Seattle
Tuesday 8/19/70 18:36:30
Mr. Smith - Gentleman Caller
PAN - Hidden

"Oh? Well, I had been thinking myself in circles about it, all morning. I had hoped that you could shed a little more light on things. But, as you said, first we eat." He took a bite of his own toast.

"If it wasn't the food, here, that caught your eye, do you mind sharing what it was?"