[NULL] Login: Havana [H1]

Most people leaving SegFault feel numb after a night of partying to the newest, hottest beats, drinking top shelf nanite-liquor, and jacking into hell knows what black box was put on display in the middle of the room. Even the constant barrage of adverts, the melting-pot of culture filling the streets, and cavalcade of people, cars, and drones whizzing by can't compare to the thrill of a good rave. The streets stink of greasy, undercooked meat, and human sweat. A pair of drunken strangers stumble out of SegFault beside you, and continue their drunken groping as one of them hails a cab. You can feel the primitive joy boiling inside their shells. When the drugs wear off, and they regain the full gamut of emotions, they might regret this decision — but for now, they're a roaring blaze of sensation for you. Quite the show, really.

It's late – even by club standards. Were you on the clock tonight, Havana, or just out blowing off some steam? Who comes up beside you, and smiles?

Comments

  • edited May 30
    SegFault used to be a dive. Couple, three years ago the place was on it's last legs, couldn't config worth a damn. But the new owners turned the place platinum practically overnight and now you gotta know someone. Lucky for me I can walk into damn near any place in the city, list or not. Doin' what I do, Golden ticket.

    I turn up the overlay and skim auras from the veil as people pass... I'm off the clock tonight but you can't turn off habits programmed in deep. It's like trying to get a song outta your head... it's just there. My vision flickers with names, addresses, current vitals and criminal records... but I trans out the data and just let the feels wash over me natural.

    Their borrowed joy tickles the base of my neck. I don't stare, but watch casual-like through my shades. I'm tempted to take that feeling for the walk home. But that'd be a shame for them, huh?

    Suddenly, Dolby comes up on me all smiles and finds me switched off and stealin' high on the Flow... little bit off guard.

    "Shouldn't you be wired up somewhere 'bout now, Dolby?" I try to keep it cool, instantly embarrassed that he caught me unawares.

    I'm surprised he came to find me outside, and that's got me a little worried. I'm not the kind of someone that someone like him leaves the club with.
  • edited May 30
    Dolby reaches into his jacket, pulls out an e-cig, and takes a long draw off it. "I was thinkin' exactly that, Havana," he sings your name, holding that second "a" for a moment. "SegFault was bangin' tonight, you think? Coulda sworn you was workin'. You been off long?" He takes another drag off his cig and waits for your answer.
  • edited May 31
    The taxi pulls away and I let go of the feeling, only the taillights reflect in my shades.

    I answer him direct, a little laugh and a nod of agreement, "place is prima, D... you get a taste of that interface?" I glance at him, he doesn't seem high on anything... chem or digital, "I ain't always on the job... why you askin?"

    Casually, I check out his shine, get a sense of why he's coming at me out here when he coulda talked to me inside.
  • Dolby rubs his beard, cig in hand, and shakes his head. "Nah, sai... Those blackbox gigs? Amateur hour. Script kiddies, rehashin' yesterday's kicks with yesteryear's name. Not for me."

    He takes another drag of his cig, then offers it to you. "Little birdy told me you play with fire tho... That true?"

    Are your abilities with manipulating emotions a well-known thing, or a closely guarded secret?
  • He's gettin' awful personal, and to be honest, Dolby is outta my league, class-wise. He's the second son of some music producer corp big shot family made of old money when money was king. But he's all right.

    I take the cig, my skin dances with tiny points of light which start at my fingertips as I reach out, and flow up my arm to my neck and face as I take a slow drag. Exhale slow and taste the smoke through my lips and hand it back.

    I know better than to touch him, he's probably got a security detail lurking somewhere... but I step a little closer and lower my shades to look at him.

    "True enough, that," I lower my voice, "that all the birdies got to say?"

    That's a closely guarded secret... maybe they know I'm on the job, maybe they know I can smell trouble before it happens. But they don't know why... only a very select few know my gift. They say it's instinct... or a subtle shift in the I.R. readings of the skin... or some b.s. about sensing danger or pushing someone's buttons with just the right words. Little bit of that. But not all that.


  • edited May 31
    Dolby grins wide. You can see some flickers of light in his retina, as he flips through some UI screens before answering you. "Birdies were real vague... Said you was magic. I bet you've got some deep source, and girl, I want whatever you're sellin'."

    You don't know if that's a harmless statement or a threat. It's hard to tell, even though he's smiling.
  • edited May 31
    "You heard right, I am magic," I smile and steer towards innuendo... hoping for harmless, but I glance about just to casually id his security just in case, another useful habit.

    I continue, "but Dolby my friend, I'm just ridin' the vibe electric... ain't nothing to sell that ain't attached."

    That high is wearing thin by now and I'm left out here in a pool of Dolby's curious intensity... it's not quite irritating but its not comfortable either. I gotta get off the streets... get back in, or get gone.

    "Come on, we got a couple hours of yesterday left," I offer him my hand and glance back at the SegFault doors.

    If the guy's here to party, he's got an exclusive invitation to chill electronic and shine on the floor with me... hour or a couple, then ditch him natural-like and get home before the morning rush.

    But If he wants trouble, then he's going to find out about my "magic" real soon.
  • Dolby's poker face drops, and he looks legitimately pleased with himself. "Yeah, Girl — rockin'!" He follows you into the club with no reservation, and you drop him like any other sucker on the dance floor who's out of his league.

    Tell me about home, Havana. How do you get there? what's it like?
  • edited May 31
    I take the express past old-town, switch off my glam and try to blend as I exit at the stop. A long walk past the financials and down the long escalators (usually not working) down to the streets. Long, dark chasms where little light finds its way down even on the brightest of days... always slick-wet and smelling of steam and sweat.

    It's an old street, the kind where people still walk to get where they're going, with paper lanterns strung across every couple blocks like they're left there from some Chinese festival long past. Most of the doors are set up on the second floor, the basements flooded some years ago and left abandoned to squatters and strays.
    I keep it low-down as I walk these streets. It's not safe if you look like you don't belong, though I walk with purpose and usually nobody gives me any trouble.

    There's an abandoned tube station mid-block... when the floods hit they abandoned the bore and condemned the place... I have the key and the code to the mag-locks
    and deep inside is where I call home... an unfinished branch office now my personal pad... locked up tight.

    Once you're inside it's comfortable enough, most of my gear scavenged from the streets or borrowed from some upper class neighborhood. I don't have guests often... I'm usually the accessory, not the other way around.

    But best of all I figure I've got a good forty yards of concrete and stone between me and my closest neighbor. It's far from fancy, but it's quiet... and at least here the flow is distant and quiet like a memory. Quiet enough to sleep.... quiet enough to fell... nearly nothing.
  • edited June 1
    So you're a squatter? Huh. I would never have fathomed! Of course, you're not the only person with a decent job that can't afford a place to sleep in this city — overpopulation is rampant, and unless you know somebody important, it's possible you'll go your entire life without so much as seeing an ad for a place to hang your hat. Is it considered a stigma to be "homeless" (at least, in the formal sense of not paying rent, or owning real estate)?

    When you get in, you have a few minutes to yourself before a ping comes in from Dolby.

    Missed you, girl! Musta had a few too many, ya feel me?
    Catch you next time!

    I'm wondering, though, who connects you with all these VIPs looking for your services?
  • edited June 1
    Squatter. Yeah you could call me that but I don't think about it that way. I have my own space, deep inside where nobody cares. The place is fine though, it looks like an apartment on the inside, yes, no windows, and the floor's bare concrete where I haven't covered up with synthfiber rugs.

    But I have a bed, I have a sofa, a fridge and the little gas burner stove with it's shiny little cartridges for when I need to reheat something, I cook seldom... there's loads of little stalls out there selling street foods. Why ignore the local resources.

    It's a stigma, of course it is, among the high-class people I mingle with. But it's all about the image and that I've got down... if you delved deep I'm guessing eight out of ten of those club hoppers aren't what they seem, either.

    Out there I'm turned on, glam and shining... but turn it down and get me home and I'm not so different.

    Networking... you asked how I connect? Word of mouth... I don't have a manager or something. But word gets around to important people and they get my name when they need someone like me. For instance... couple months ago I pulled flow for Osprey Bionics at some big convention party. Show up, look sexy, look provocative, get the suits chill and moving... but I snared two corp spies and probably saved the board from an embarrassing scandal. Got my contact in a couple of exec. pockets at that one.

    It all comes around... I'm networked, of course... if you know what you're doing you can find me.

    Oh. And I don't answer Dolby for a good twenty-four. Let him wonder.
  • edited June 1
    A few hours pass. Do you sleep, or are you one of those people who jacks-in, and runs the veil while your body rests? Either way, you have a ping from one of your Osprey clients. Where are you (physical world, or digital) when she finds you?
    "Hello Havana, do you have time for a chat?" You know her as Salomé laDurantaye, a middling official at Osprey responsible for OEM accounts of their bionics. High-quality stuff. What was your last job for her?
  • edited June 1
    I sleep. The world for me is augmented reality. I run through meatspace and the veil as one reality. Except when I'm home and switched off, I'm running on all senses.
    Roused from sleep, I tune in audio and answer her, "always time for you, Salomé,"

    I hope my sleepless night doesn't show in my voice.

    Salomé was involved int that convention I mentioned, my main Osprey contact. But she had me watching out for some stolen cyberware components. Rare stuff that should be getting top dollar and right up my alley... literally. It feels like someone at Osprey didn't want to report that theft to the authorities... I didn't ask and she didn't explain. No need... but why else ask me?

    I switch on and see the time-stamp in the corner of my vision, "uhh... and good morning."
  • Do you talk out loud, like you do on a phone? Or is this communication entirely through your neural interface?
    "Sorry if I woke you," she remarks dryly, "but I was hoping I could get your particular skills to watch my back during a conference dinner this evening. I've got a few deals in the pipeline that are highly sensitive, and I suspect clandestine agents will be afoot. Are you available?"
  • It's neural, but I talk out loud when I'm alone, feels more natural, so that's how I answer her. Though... yeah gave away my lack of sleep. What did I get, two hours?
    "This evening? Yeah... I'm all glass. Send me the deets," I bring up my file on Osprey, those missing parts I had to track down... they didn't all get recovered. But she got more with me than she ever would have found without me.
    "Is this as formal as it sounds? How should I dress?"
  • edited June 5
    A slew of data fills your feed as Salomé uploads the details of the event. "Business formal," she answers, her tone is distant, and nonchalant, "though I'm told the Daimyo's son will be in attendance — so take that into account. He has multiple business dealings with Osprey, and we're hoping to get in his good graces — you, of course, won't be responsible for him. He'll have his own security detail."

    Have you ever worked for someone as high profile as the Daimyo, or his family?
  • Business formal. Not exactly my thing but I'll make it work. She must need to extra pair of eyes on this thing cause she knows better.

    I stand as we talk, start to browse through the hangars in my closet: Neon, silver, electric blue predominate... but I have a tasteful dark suit that'll work... go it ninety-percent physical... veil out some of my ink and go lights out.

    "I'll keep it low, just make sure I'm clear to move if I need to," can't have the Daimyo's corpers breathing down my neck every time I gotta get eyes on something. She'll send me an encrypted message with whatever I have to know, if this is as usual, so I don't have to ask too many questions.

    I haven't. Most of my gigs are club-level stuff... yeah, I've mingles with corps and execs up on their private terraces but I'm usually part of the scenery and any contact I've had with nobility is mostly coincidental.
  • edited June 6
    "Excellent," she says, "I'll see you this evening. The data is being forwarded to you now." You see a few high-profile names on the guest list — even a few you recognize from the club scene... "Done," she adds. Then, as quickly as she invaded your privacy, she's gone.

    What are your plans, to get ready?
  • First thing's first... read over her data in detail, identify individuals I need to watch out for and memorize their faces, names,
    and allegiances as best I can.

    Look up the Daimyo and his son, find footage of other events and see if I can't also get a look at their security. Look up the venue, get some three-sixties of the street and the interior... mark the exits.

    Catch some sleep on the tube.

    Couple hours before the event I'm there... get a feel for people standing around, people passing by. Look sharp and wait for my contact. I can blend into most any crowd... this time, at least, I'm not here to be seen.

    I work on feelings, I work the crowd, I work the target... but emotion without information is just random nonsense. I'll lead you astray by your feelings... that's not going to happen to me.
  • The conference dinner is set to occur at the Neon Pagoda itself. It's a hot spot for these kinds of events because business types like to go to the club after the fact. The corps with the highest rep in the city vie for the Daimyo's favor to stay on the Pagoda's list of approved hosts. With an event that attracts the Daimyo's son, it probably shouldn't surprise you that it's been squeezed into the extremely tight schedule.

    image

    Your ride out to the Neon Pagoda is long and about as restful as you might expect. When you arrive, the streets are filled with corporate diplomats, and young people standing in line for the club. You enter the Neon Pagoda, and cross the great hall – an enormous room with a glass floor that overlooks the club in the lower levels – into the corporate center just one flight of stairs up.
    You spot Salome chatting up some of the other conference-goers on the balcony, and she waves you over. You hear her ping on your private channel, "I'm glad you're here – I've got a person of interest that trumps everyone on my list. There's a gentleman by the bar I swear I've seen before... He's not interacting with anyone except the bartender, and nobody else seems to care. Figure out who he is, and if he's a threat to Osprey interests."

    What do you do?
  • edited June 7
    Considering the venue and occasion, I dress as tasteful as possible. Want to blend, but not disappear. image It's always intimidating to enter the Neon Pagoda. It's designed that way, of course, to give every advantage to the Daimyo and his court. Visitors are made to feel insignificant and off guard. I've been here before, mostly at the club of course, on jobs and off.
    This kind of place feels calm, strangely quiet, as the surroundings sort of unify everyone's temperament and everyone acts under a veil of decorum. But lucky me, that makes it easier to feel anyone wracked by anxiety, fear, or lust.
    I keep it low-key with Salomé and avoid drawing attention to our interaction, then wander a while. Pick up the feel of the room and i.d. the key players before closing on my subject, observe him and the bartender. How they interact.

    Going to lead by absorbing the feels around them.

    Probably a roll.
  • [HAVANA]
    Absorb (powerful +1)
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 6. Total: 10)
  • edited June 8
    Forgot to mention but it's probably obvious. Targeting the guy I'm supposed to be figuring out with the move. And on the 10+ I choose:
    They aren't aware of what I'm doing, I get +1 flow, and I'll take +1 flow. (yeah 2 flow, can I do that?)
  • edited June 8
    When your chip tries to dig up the target's name, it comes up as "Ѭ9╖☺☺‽a" — subsequent pings produce different results. After a few failed attempts, it responds with "Glitch". Glitch's presents as a young man, but almost none of his account details are visible to you — well, not without some effort, anyway. If not for the fact that you're staring him in the face, you'd have a hard time believing he existed.

    image

    Making a low-level empathic connection is another story, though — you plow through the emotional barriers he's established, and get a full reading on him. His aura lights up on your approach: He is calm, collected, and at Peace — eerily so.

    He orders another drink from the bartender, who obliges without so much as a second thought.
  • I linger on his periphery, chat with someone or other. Eyes here, mind there.

    I feel that calm, that peace... I like that feeling. I'm at my best when I manage to fight back the whirlwind of emotions and bring myself to a calm state. I feel... intensely...
    everything. And it's always a struggle to focus and not let myself get swept away by it. His calm is alluring, but almost certainly artificial.

    I draw on that... take it from him and to myself. Watch his aura dim and fragment and leave him with whatever lingers after peace leaves you. Anxiety? And just at that moment I slip into the seat next to him.

    "Never did care much for parties," I comment casually, commiserating with him as someone who looks unaffected by the upscale gathering, I glance at his drink like I've just noticed it, "what are you drinking?"
  • edited June 9
    The Young man jumps a bit, startled at your sudden intrusion into his drinking. His eyes dart around the room, and down to his drink, before he finally settled into looking you in the eye. "Micron Whiskey, on the rocks," he answers, downing his drink, and eyeing you expectantly. That shit is expensive. What do you do?
  • I forgot to negotiate for expenses... But I gotta take this one as investment. When I make this work for Salomé, we should have a good flow of future cred. And there's always the chance I don't end up paying.

    I hold on his eyes for a good few moments. This is an intriguing person... pleasant feels, a good calm which I've admittedly borrowed for the moment. I smile and break the eye contact after just the right pause, "one more," I get the barkeeps attention and indicate Glitch's drink.

    Then quieter, to Glitch "you've got taste, I appreciate that..."I edge just a bit closer and try to recapture his eyes.

    Then gently touch the back of his hand on the bar near his empty glass. Just the lightest of touches, "...are you alone?"
  • edited June 9
    The bartender grabs a new bottle of Micron from the top shelf, the bottle has a pearlescent chrome glow, with the letter μ glowing in a thin-type vertex-style font. He offers to pour you one too, since Micron is bought by the bottle. He grabs Glitch's glass and starts filling it up.
    Glitch waits patiently for his drink, and he doesn't respond when you comment on his taste. He looks confused when you brush up against his hand. He's sizing you up, Havana, trying to figure you out.

    "Yeah," he says, answering your question about being alone. He's starting to sweat.

    What do you do?
  • edited June 9
    The glowing logo is just one indication of how pricey this stuff is. But if things go right then Osprey should be picking up the bill as expenses. Whoever this guy is, I might be able to enjoy the drink knowing that's the case.

    I relax when Glitch says he's alone, a genuine smile.

    Of course you're alone. You're working this gig same as me...

    "Oh thank goodness," I don't push it too far and withdraw my hand slightly.
    Let him wonder if the skin to skin contact was incidental, "I hate to drink by myself... this place is full of switched-off mileetsya."

    Small talk. Yeah what he says isn't actually very important. I just need to keep him off guard and off his game. Keep him sweating and make him miss his mark... whoever that is.

    I watch his movements, he can't be armed, right? Probably not... I'm not packing my pistol at the Neon Pagoda with the Daimyo attending... though that doesn't mean I'm harmless. I can't assume he is either.

    I clink his glass with mine and silently drink. Try to catch him paying attention to someone, something... or figure out if maybe he's feeling the veil without eyes.
  • [HAVANA]
    Rolling to probe Glitch. Powerful+1
    (Rolled: 2d6+1. Rolls: 3, 6. Total: 10)
  • I feel him. His anxiety makes him vulnerable.

    Spending 1 hold: What does Glitch intend to do?
  • edited June 10
    It occurs to you that had you asked this question just a moment ago, before you interfered with his aura, you might have gotten a different answer. Now, you see nothing but conflict in him. Deep conflict with finality to it. Glitch intended to die here today, and you get the impression that's still on the table — if he can work through the doubts you've brought bubbling back to the front of his mind... It isn't until there's a commotion at the door that his target becomes clear.
    Four of the Daimyo's honor guard step into the bar, in full uniform. They survey the room for a moment, clearing a path in the sea of interested conference attendees.

    image
    Kai, the eldest son of the Daimyo, and CEO of Yamada Bionics & Algorithms, steps into the room, and immediately starts shaking hands. His entourage of guards begin walking the room, scanning the many faces. They appear almost robotic — emotionless protectors of the Daimyo and his progeny.
    Glitch's pupils shrink down to pin-pricks, and he tenses up at the sight of the Daimyo's son. He doesn't answer you, instead engulfed in the frantic reconciliation of conflicting ideas.

    He's not interested in Osprey. He means harm to the Daimyo's son, and you get the impression he intended to die to do it.
  • The realization chills me. Here I am chatting this guy up when he's plotting his own death... death for a cause. I wonder if it's his own cause or someone else's. Why do this?

    The arrival of the entourage has me desperately alert and aware of the tenuous situation I've put myself in, sitting here with this man.

    I can't let him do this...

    "Hey, so..." I turn back from the commotion at the door, slip my hand over his hand, "did you have plans tonight? What do you say we ditch this party and..." I realize I'm dressed tamer than my suggestion, but what the hell, "just go crazy! Man... this place is hot but... totally overpriced, right?" I'm not going to let him ignore me. If he looks away I'm getting close to his face. "You ever been to Club point-nine? The Blue Edge? You will not believe the level of pure awesome!"

    Trying to make him feel my excitement, inspire him to want to know more. To live...
    if only just long enough to break whatever mind-breaking program this guy's been put through... or hell... put himself through.
  • Spending hold:
    How can I get you to leave the venue with me?
  • Glitch seems to hang, his mind recovering from a critical failure. His eye twitches, and he snaps back to life. "I ... I can't. I owe it to her... Giri demands it!" You get the impression he means he can't leave literally — he was resolved to do the job until a few moments ago, when you robbed him of the zen he needed to carry it out. That was a major hurdle – that doubt is your foot in the door – what remains is the reason he came at all.

    If he's doing this alone, then you need to find out what's driven him to this point, and walk him back from it... But if he's doing this for somebody else's cause, then you know somebody is watching him closely. There's likely some contingency in place, and his failure to execute would be seen as a betrayal. You would need to divert those eyes, and let their grip on him slip long enough to get him out of the building.
  • edited June 13
    I can feel my pulse quickening. To be truthful, this is beyond my normal routine. I glance towards the Daimyo's son and his honor guard... they could waste this whole place in moments, couldn't they?

    And here I am... a low-life metro... an elegant low-life, yes, but I don't rank when it comes to the pagoda and it's lords and honor. And here I am sitting with a would-be assassin having drinks.

    I'm moments away from connecting to Salomé and just calling this guy's number... but she didn't ask me here to cause a panic. I'm here to keep things chill.

    I keep his attention, whatever it takes, to anyone who might be watching it probably looks like I'm coming on strong... I let it look that way, "hey... look at me, ok?" I physically turn his head if I need to, I'm close to him. "Your life is worth more than that..." I let the subtext ring for a moment, but only just, let him wonder what I mean, "there's more than one way to make evens... tell me about it... about... this mysterious girl you have on your mind."
  • A tear runs down Glitch's face, and you feel the veil start to lift a bit. "My sister," he answers, his posture finally giving way to the weight of the memory. "I owe her... I'm in so much debt, and she offered herself in servitude to clear it. She loves her master, and it was her way of keeping the debt collectors from tearing our family apart! So when she said she needed my help to make a libelous matter of Giri right for her master, I jumped at the opportunity to square my debt with her away."

    He takes a deep breath and looks you in the eye. "I've spent every single credit of what my life is worth... Now I'm spending her's. If I don't come through now, I may never have another chance to pay my sister what she is owed..."
  • I calm a little. he's opening up, letting it out. He wants to be convinced... he wouldn't speak of it otherwise.

    Not knowing all the details I'm pretty sure I don't need to right now. I just need to control the flow and change this moment.

    I touch his cheek, "I can't believe she would want this..." I glance across the room. Not really at Kai, but the place in general, "this life she's chosen, she did it to give you your life back... her brother. She traded for your future... not for your death. Am I wrong?"

    I still touch him, if he lets me.

    "Let's go..." I nod encouragingly, "you need to get away from this place.... and hell, imperial polish n'chrome ain't my scene. "

    Last hold, What does he wish I'd do?
  • Glitch does let you touch him. It seems to soothe him a bit, actually. He shakes his head, "I don't understand... Had you said that a year ago, I'd have believed you — but she really loves her master. She practically begged me to do this... " He looks over at the honor guard, and goes pale, "look at them! There's no way I could survive that... I want to honor her the way she has honored me." He looks at you, and bows his head, "I don't even know your name... I feel wrong asking anything of you."

    Right now, Glitch wants nothing more than to settle his accounts with his sister; but he's in a fragile state and he's not thinking clearly, so what he truly wishes is a matter of debate. You could either help him pull this off (and survive), or you could close the door for him right here and now — find a way to remove the Daimyo's son, so Glitch can't act. If you can do that, he would be indebted to you.
  • edited June 14
    "My name is Havana," I offer, as I slip my hand gently across his ear and to touch the back of his neck. I'm being gently, but firm, not letting go.

    That's not going to happen, Glitch. I'm here to keep things smooth, make this thing happen nice and calm. So far I'm earning my pay... but I also feel him. Literally feel him and I don't want him to die... that's what would happen. I can't see a way I can get the Daimyo's Son out without getting Glitch in some serious trouble... I'd have a lot of explaining to do.

    But I can do something else. I tap into Salomé's feed, "urgent request. Can you get the two of us thrown out the back nice and quiet-like? We've been drinking too much. I need some space between this guy and this place. I'll keep eyes on him and get him gone."

    "You're a good brother," I whisper in his ear. I could probably access his chip and message him direct, but this feel right. Let him feel me, "would be a shame to waste half the bottle..."

    I reach for the bottle without looking, one hand still holding onto Glitch... but intentionally spill it and knock over the glass.
  • edited June 14
    Glitch smiles, and nods when you answer with your name. "My name's Poe, but people just call me Glitch on account of my bugged out UUID transmitter." He leans into you as you slide your hand to the back of his neck. He's clearly comforted by your presence. He moves to salvage the bottle when you knock it over, and reaches for a cocktail napkin to clean up. "Shit... It's, uh... Here..." He mumbles, padding the countertop dry.
    You spot Salome from across the room — she's preoccupied chatting up some people who are eyeing the Daimyo, who is bowing respectfully with ... Rostam. A memory long buried sneaks into your periphery — a rare moment of emotional truth that you shared with him. It nags at you, demanding your attention.

    She does respond to your ping, but it looks like those Honor guards are going to get to you first. They're approaching the bar, and very likely, the two of you.

    What do you do?
  • Even a few moments without an answer gets me looking for her, and as I find Salomé chatting with Rostam... that's a surprise in itself to see him here... but I curse under my breath and I know I have to do something on my own.

    Probably in the middle of his anecdote about his name, I stand and pull Glitch with me towards the washrooms, "oh man!" I make like the spill was worse than it actually was, and act like I need to get to the washroom. I say to the bartender as I hurry Glitch away, "what a mess, I'm so sorry!"

    And I'm sure not to "notice" the guards closing in on us.

    Just need to get him out of here. If the guards see him as a threat there's probably nothing I can do, but I don't mind looking like a tool to get clear.
  • I suppose that depends on where you're taking him, Havana... Where are you going? The exit, or the washroom?
  • Want to look like we're going to the washrooms, but then break for the exit once we're out of sight.
  • Why don't you roll Risk for me? There's a very real possibility the Honor guard could intercept you if they suspect something is up.
  • [HAVANA]
    Rolling Risk : Scared+0
    (Rolled: 2d6. Rolls: 3, 6. Total: 9)
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