Shadowrun
Shadowrun Play => Play-by-Post => Topic started by: Beta on <03-23-16/1522:20>
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references:
- Character sheet (http://Character sheet)https://stormy-waters-2075.obsidianportal.com/characters/preston
- OOC thread here: http://forums.shadowruntabletop.com/index.php?topic=23520.0[/i]
Moving this thread over form Dumpshock. Quoting MM's intro post from there, and splicing Preston's responses into it.
The first thing you notice as you leave Charlie's Place is that you stayed a bit longer than you had intended to. The Happy Hour specials had drug you in and the way Ellie wears her low cut top had kept you there. She did not seem to mind the way men try to look down her shirt, especially since that frequently translates to nice tips and sometimes a place to spend the night. The second thing you notice is that you should have brought your umbrella. It had been clear, with no sign of clouds in the sky when you went in and now look at it. Oh well, it is only two blocks to home and nothing for it but to pull your jacket collar up and try to stay as close to the buildings as possible.
From fifty feet away you can see her; some woman standing on the porch to the block of cheap apartments you call home.
Seeing someone waiting in front of his building triggers a rush of adrenaline in Preston. Not the turbo-charged rush he had with Jazz, to be sure.
- The detached inner voice he calls Gamma notes: "I don't miss Jazz much anymore."
- But the mocking voice he calls Monkey adds: "But I miss missing it!"
Preston hitches his shoulders and lengthens one a step, letting him feel the comforting precence of the harness holding a sap at the small of his back. Bumping awareness with his 'link, he lets the drek of AR overlay the drek of everyday life, then flicks a thought to his hold-out and the slide containing it, putting both into ready-mode. The cyber-arm the slide is strapped to picks up on the preparation and almost twitches in eagerness to palm the pistol, but Preston quells the vicious thing for now.
- Coleman sums up the tactical situation: "No taser for a more legal option, only two shots in the hold out, no back up, she's between me and the door, and since she's better than this hood and prepared she may have back up or surprises. Need a broader tactical scan, but best to act nonchalant until then"
Based on the nice pantsuit she is wearing, she does not belong here. She appears to be smarter than you, however, as she is protected from most of the rain by a large umbrella. For some reason, you note that her ass is shapely under the trousers. She turns as you approach and you correct your assessment; her ass and her chest are shapely. Her face is not hard to look at, either.
Preston doesn't bother trying to conceal his visual scan of the area as he approaches the woman--nor his appreciative scan of her as she turns --
-- but he does trigger routines in his 'link to scan the immediate area for anyone running their PAN silently.
He stops the two steps away that people seem to take as the signal for "We can talk if you want to, but we don't have to." And sure enough she speaks.
Blue eyes look at you through large-rimmed glasses and she says, "Do I perhaps have the pleasure of addressing Mister Preston?" Her accent is definitely foreign, probably French. She pauses, waiting for you to respond.
- Oleg: "A fragging frenchie -- damn traitors!"
Preston briefly regrets that family prejudice kept him from ever studying french. He doesn't get to impress women very often, and responding to her in french might have done it.
- Monkey: "Oh-la-la, maybe she'd be so impressed that she'd "
Preston squelches that line of thought.
- Gamma: "It has been a while since I've been with anyone, that could explain why I'm responding so emotionally to a pretty face."
Focus. Just answer in english--time enough to impress her with language skills later. Be cool, be professional. “I don’t normally give my name out to strangers, but for a fine looking lady like you I can make an exception.” Drek I sound like a leering drunk. “Finely dressed I mean.” Wait now I’m saying she doesn’t look fine? “Not that your looks aren’t fine, because they are, you have finely shaped, uh, ....” oh drek where do I go with this sentence? “Glasses! glasses that uh, really suit your face, as do your clothes, not that your clothes are on your face, because that would be weird...”
- Gamma: "I’m babbling."
- Coleman: "babbling is a display of weakness."
- Monkey: "No!!!! I’m blowing my chance!"
- Oleg: "City girls are all too skinny anyway."
- Coleman: "time for a tactical retreat, give up the ground I can't hold so I can make a stand in a better position. Reduce site lines, familiar ground would be good."
Preston wipes rain off his forehead with his real hand. "Sorry, I'm usually more together than this. Yes, I'm Preston. If you want to get out of the rain then Soy-U-Later is just up the block, its a diner with soycaff that is mostly drinkable. I know I could sure go for a cup of joe right now, and maybe you'll let me start this over again."
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Posting for MM again
Your approach gave you some information about your visitor. The woman appears to be in her late twenties. Her complexion is smooth, her hair professionally coifed, and her clearly tailored grey pantsuit fits her like a glove, concealing yet emphasizing her physical attributes. She has a commlink on her somewhere, but it is running silent and not broadcasting any information. She seems to be alone and your glance around the area as you move closer to her does not raise any alarms. And perhaps quite naïve, considering how she is dressed in this neighborhood.
She smiles as she holds out a hand that is gloved in a soft gray that matches the color of her suit. Her soft tones come across as almost seductive, with the underlying French accent. "Thank you Mister Preston. My name is Monique Chevalier. I would be glad to accompany you to the diner. Would you mind holding this?" She seems to have completely missed your verbal faux pas, or at least not written you off entirely. She presses a button on her umbrella and the top expands so as to be able to protect two people. She holds it for you to carry and slips her arm inside yours, apparently not minding that her nice suit is up against your wet clothes.
As you walk her to the Soy-U-Later, she says, "I will try to keep this short for you. I routinely pick up flowers for my employer and have been an acquaintance of Sonya's for some time. Her shop provides some of the best flowers I have seen since leaving Paris and Lady Marisart likes them very much. I was explaining to Sonya how I was looking for someone to help me with a project and she put your name forward. Are you indeed looking for work, Mister Preston?"
She asks the question of you just as your reach the door to the diner. Once under the awning, she holds out her hand for the umbrella and collapses it with a twist of her arm and looks expectantly at you.
Preston has had enough training in manners to know how to handle this one.
"Lovely to meet you, Monique. Let's get a warm drink and possibly something to nibble, then we can talk business."
* Monkey: Such a lady in the street ...
* Coleman: I'm more than a bit tipsy. A nibble of food is not going to counter that
* Monkey: Triple Soyspresso shot with extra sugar!
* Coleman: Ordering gives me time, best make use of it.
Preston fires off a matrix search on Lady Marisart, then asks Monique for her order and relays it to Jules, the proprietor. Jules raises an eyebrow at that, since he can hear perfectly well what Monique asks for, so Preston finishes a bit lamely " ... and for me just a Red-Eye."
* Gamma: I haven't actually had food since lunch
* Monkey: Bring on the buzz!
Eventually Preston has doffed his wet coat and ingested some liquid caffeine, and he feels good manners allows him to finally answer her question. "I might be interested in some work, yes. I'd like to know more first, of course."
post 2
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Tuesday, June 5, Soy-U-Later
It feels nice to have a pretty girl on your arm, although you do get some strange looks from the people you pass. Clearly, it is unusual to treat a woman in this fashion down here. At the diner, she removes her suit jacket and hangs it on a hook near the booth. Her white blouse has a small frill over the breasts that you think is probably designed to draw attention there. It certainly works on you. She gracefully slides into the booth and removes her gloves, placing them at her side with her small pocketbook. When she looks at you through the large glasses it is like being examined. The glasses perfectly fit her face, as part of you has already noted. She asks you what is good to eat here and orders that, seemingly pleased that you order it for her, despite the rolled eye from Jules.
The matrix information you had asked for starts to spool in while you are waiting for the food to arrive. Apparently there is a huge amount of public information on one Lady Tanya Astasia Marisart. She is a British ex-pat who moved to the Seattle area several years ago. She is related by blood to a British nobleman, Lord Sir Jeremy Lodge Marisart, 16th Viscount of Leicester, as well as Lord Sir Gregory Murdoch, the controller of most of the media outlets of Britain and the UCAS. Her address in Seattle is given as the exclusive Gates Undersound Hotel. The list of charities she is involved in covers three pages of scrolling down. She sits on the board of the fragging Seattle Opera. She is frequently seen at some of Seattle's best night clubs and also at some of its most notorious night clubs. She is apparently not attached to any man in particular, although her public life reads like a who's who of eligible bachelors. There are also hints of her embroiled with some of the more "interesting" women in Seattle.
Monique sits quietly until the waitress brings over the cups of soycaf, thanking her quietly before taking a sip of the hot beverage. Nodding, she says, "You are right. This is quite good." She then leans forward a bit and says, "I understand that all of this may seem a bit unusual so I will come to the point. My employer is in a bit of a bind and needs some help. She needs a date to the opera tomorrow evening. Sonya thinks that you might be perfect for this. We are talking dinner, the opera, and a small party after. Are you interested? You will be handsomely compensated for your time. If you are not interested I will simply thank you for the soycaf and the dinner and leave you in peace."
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I am entirely stealing from, errr paying tribute to, Adamu's handling of Al's flashbacks
October 1st 2069, West Edmonton Mall, Athabaskan Council
"I might be interested in some work, yes. I'd like to know more first, of course."
The hard faced man stared at the barrista, waiting for the latter to drop his gaze before responding "I'll want to know more about you, first -- see if you are the right man for the job or not." The growling voice held notes of doubt and of challenge.
The barrista squared his shoulders nervously, but his voice was steady as he responded "Of course. I can take a break in just over 43 minutes, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until then for more in depth conversation, Mr, um, what do I call you?"
"Fisher"
"So we'll talk then, Mr. Fisher sir?"
"No 'Mister', just Fisher."
Most of an hour later the two sat at the small table wedged in next to the display of self-heating, disposable, single-serve soycaff cups. Fisher took a sip of his plain black 'caff, then started "I asked around at a local virtual reality place for the local most suspected of cheating in matrix games, but who had never been caught. Michael Rudnyckyj seemed to be the consensus name."
"That's me -- but I've never cheated at matrix games. People are just jealous because I'm good, and I'm quick -- they think I have some sort of speed hack going. But I take games way too seriously to cheat. I'm hoping to get picked up on a pro squad and any whiff of cheating would rule me out, plus you don't get better if you cheat."
"But you were kicked out of college for trying to hack a professor's files." Fisher delivered it as a statement, not a question. "Tell me about that."
Michael briefly fidgeted with his caramel carreto soy-latte, suddenly worried at this sign that Fisher had researched him, before admitting "Yah, well ... I was taking gaming more seriously than Comparative Parazoology. I wasn't a big fan of the class, it had a ton of detail to remember, I'd let things slide for too long and while I have a good memory there is limits to how fast I can cram stuff in. I thought I'd take a look to see if she was drafting the exam yet, get an idea of what to focus on, you know?"
He took a sip of his drink, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the past as he continued his story. "School's security is pretty drek so it was easy enough to come up with scripts that would get me in. I found the file easily, but I never thought to look for a data bomb on it. Never knew Lebuff had it in her. The bomb triggered alarms, and did enough damage to the gear I'd cobbled together that I couldn't get it to shut down before I was traced."
"What did you learn from that?"
"Never underestimate old people; they might be slower but sometimes they make up for it with sneaky."
"Not 'I should study harder' or 'Always look for traps?'"
Michael thought "I'm probably about to lose a job, but frag it, let's just be honest." He shrugged and answered "I'll be honest -- number two on my lessons learned list might be 'I shouldn't have ever taken Comparative Parazoology.' What a waste -- I mean sure I want to be a detective and this stuff can come up, but almost always we can just look that sort of stuff up on the matrix. The old-school stuff of memorizing trivia and pretending that makes you smart is just a waste."
Fisher apparently decided something, as his body language changed and he announced. "Fair enough, we both know you waste your time and aren't above trying to be sneaky to make up for it, but it sounds like you are honest enough with yourself and with me; I can work with that. I'll tell you more about the job, but you have to agree not to talk about it, whether or not you take it. You wouldn't like the consequences if you do talk."
Michael had a sudden idea of just how serious this threat could be, but he swallowed his nerves and assured the older man "I can keep my mouth shut."
Job is simple enough, I'm looking for an out-of-towner who is spending some time in this spirits-forsaken frozen backwater. He's a gamer and there can't be that much else to entertain him here, so I'm sure he'll be playing games, using local hosts. I'm looking to track him down, so I'd want you to identify him in-game, and trace him back to a physical location."
Michael smiled and enthused "Stalking someone like that sounds fun -- I'm in. Errr, I mean, what is the pay that you mentioned?"
post 3
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Tuesday, June 5, Soy-U-Later[/color]
"I am interested, for sure. I hope you don't mind if I take a minute to think it through properly."
* Oleg: Opera, well lah-di-drek!
* Gamma: I have some money left from the Carlin Avenue thing, but it won't last out the month. Work of any sort would help secure my situation.
* Monkey: Two upper class chicks looking my way? I could be [flexible] on terms.
* Coleman: Two upper class women looking my way? Would be a perfect way to get a target onto unfamiliar ground. Could anyone have put a price on my head?
* Gamma: the chance of embarrassment at such functions seems high. Studying would reduce it.
* Coleman:. The Opera will have extensive private security in attendance, which would add a lot of risk to anything happening there. The party after however will likely be far easier an occasion to pull something.
* Monkey: Think of the food and drink at any party this Lady is at!
* Gamma: It would be inappropriate to get tipsy while on such a job. It would be better to stick to soycaff.
* Monkey: They might have REAL coffee!
* Gamma: I haven't real coffee in over three years. That is a very long time.
* Coleman: Enjoying real coffee would help keep me alert
* Oleg: If they're dumb enough to serve real coffee at the party, they deserve people to drink it all up.
"I can make myself ready for the opera -- I admit that will be new to me, but I should be able to find what I need on the matrix. But it would be good to have some more idea of what sort of party is in question, and what my expected role would be. I can dress up as needed, I can be polite, but I'm not a great talker. I just don't want to take the job under false pretenses. So long as your Lady Marisart doesn't expect me to charm anyone, I'm in."
Preston pauses, then can't help but ask "So, at this party, do you think there would be real coffee?"
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Monique looks at you and smiles and the room lights up. “Of course, Mister Preston, we would be serving real coffee. It is not my place to know if she expects anything more than a handsome man as her escort.” She reaches for her purse and pulls out a business card, handing it to you. The name on the card is Gisseppi’s, and an address is provided. “Do you own a tuxedo, Mister Preston? If not, may I recommend this establishment? I have taken the very great liberty of making a tentative appointment for you for 1000 tomorrow. I can cancel that if you already have one or would prefer another tailor.” Monique then takes another small card from her purse. “This is a parking pass for the Gates Undersound Hotel. It will allow you access to the car park there in one of the assigned guest spots for Lady Marisart.”
She looks at you, still smiling, and continues. “If you have an automobile, may I recommend the following schedule? You have an appointment at Gisseppi’s to be fitted for your tuxedo. From there you drive to the florist and pick up a corsage for lady Tanya and a boutonnière for yourself. Sonya will have them ready for you. Drive to the hotel and you will be met and taken to the suite to discuss the details of the evening with Lady Tanya. Your tuxedo will be delivered that afternoon and you can change there. A private dinner with Lady Tanya followed by the opera and then back to the suite for a small party for some of Lady Tanya’s friends and their guests. If you do not have an automobile, the schedule would be the same except that I would send one to pick you up and drive you from place to place.”
The pretty woman folds her hands on the table and looks at you. “I know that this must sound like you are being railroaded, and that is the last thing I want. I am trying to get many things accomplished at one time and this is crisis management at its finest. If you say no, I will have to scramble to find another man for the job. May I say that, in recompense for the inconvenience this will cause you, Lady Tanya has instructed me to offer you two thousand nuyen for your time tomorrow. And we would both be in your debt for helping out. If you are in, please let me know if you have your own transportation or if I need to send an automobile for you?”
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"Let me be frank,Miss: having my schedule even known in such detail worries me, to have it dictated to me like this leaves me very nervous. Perhaps a professional defect -- I've used such knowledge or control to catch people who very much did not want to get caught. So far as I know nobody is looking to entrap me, but I like to be careful. I would presume that neither the hotel nor the opera have much tolerance for carrying weapons, nor will I have people I know around me. In short, I place my life rather firmly in the hands of your employer, while she holds all the advantages over me."
He holds up a hand to forestall any response while he picks out his next words -- doing his best to integrate all the aspects of himself rather than letting them run amok with his thoughts. Despite which Monkey insists on pointing out "Fancy party like this, you know who would really like it? And who might slip us something Jazzy in return?" Preston starts to brush away the thought, then grins.
"I don't know the nature of this party, and perhaps it would be too tasteful for my idea, but let me make it. There is a dwarf lady who is sometimes known by the name Radiant Shadow. She is perhaps more .... colourful than your employer's usual mix, but she is experienced at mingling with higher society and she can certainly liven up a room. If it were feasible for her to be invited to the party after the opera, well I'd have someone expecting to see me there and so forth, which would give me much more confidence. I can send you some background and contact information, if you'd like to consider the possibility."
After making this audacious proposal, Preston nervously gulps down a large swallow of his soycaff concoction, then adds "If you need a moment to think or consult, absolutely please take it."
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Your active agent pings and tells you that a silent device just went online. Monique smiles. "Your idea has merit. I will contact your friend. It sounds like you have accepted the offer. So, do you have a tuxedo and automobile of your own?" Within seconds the agent tells you that the device has gone silent again.
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"A car of course, but I am regrettably without a tuxedo at the moment.". Preston's thoughts drift back to the last time he'd worn a tuxedo costume, and what had happened to it. Hopefully he wouldn't get that sort of stains on this one.
" And yes, I accept-- I should have said that more clearly. I'm looking forward to it despite my nerves. It will be different, at the very least, and that is always stimulating. ". He tries for a rakish smile, decides it probably looks more like a grimace, and gives it up.
" Your schedule is acceptable too. I would have preferred a later start to have more time to swot up on the Opera, but I'll take advantage of the appointment you have made for me. Now, if we are agreed,I should probably get to preparations and sleep."
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Monique smiles and stands, putting her jacket and gloves back on. She takes her purse and umbrella and walks with you to the door, stopping to pay the bill and thanks Jules for the meal and would he please compliment the chef. At the door, you note that the rain has stopped. Your agent alerts you that Monique's commlink cuts on just as you get a ping on your 'link. She says, "I have just sent you comm code. Please use it if you need to. The opera is "Pirates of Penzance". I do wonder what you used to do that has you so suspicious.?" She turns to leave, walking away down the street. You cannot help but gaze in admiration at her ass as she walks away.
You get less than a block before you get a message. >>Hey. Radiant here. I just got a fragging message from someone claiming to be the personal assistant to Lady Tanya Marisart. She said that you asked for me to be invited. What the drek is going on. Is this a legit invite? Do you have any idea what sort of circles this woman moves in. So the big question is what sort of scam are you working and do you need any help setting it up?<<
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"Frag, she's quick-- I was going to wait until I walked the two blocks home before I called you, but I guess that was too slow. Sorry I didn't reach you first."
"I'm not the one pulling the scam, but I'm not sure who is. If that scares you off, I understand. Balance it against the chance to make contacts at one of HER parties, and make your own decision on going -- me I figured you wouldn't miss it for anything."
So the deal is this woman, the claimed assistant, says this Lady character needs a guy on her arm for the Opera and a party she is holding. Somehow shegot my name and thinks I'd fit, and sent the assistant to set it up."
"The way I figure it, either the assistant isn't who she says, she is who she says but is scamming her mistress, or her mistress is pulling something. No matter which, I figure the party is the most likely place where it goes down. I wanted a familiar face I thought you'd appreciate the invite, and the assistant agreed to invite you."
"What do you think?"
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>>Are you fragging insane. Something smells bad about this, but I can back your play. I will apparently have tickets to the opera waiting at the ticket counter. See you there.<<
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"You, ma'am, are as fine a person as one can find. And to be clear, I'm pretty sure the scam isn't primarily aimed at me -- else it would have been easy to have reasons to object to inviting you. Honestly I thought that was the more likely case, but it was win/win -- either I'd have an indication that me having back-up was not in the interests of their plan, or yo"u'd get to go to a party with some of Seattle's social elite. From that point of view I think it was a good gambit."
"Since I don't think I'm the main target, I figure I'm either meant to be left holding the bag, or I have some talent that whoever is running this figures they can make use of. If I'm not being made use of in interesting ways by the time of the party, I'll mention to you 'the weather in Winnipeg' and you can make your own call as to whether and when to get out -- I'm certainly not looking to shift any problems onto you. If I'm sure everything is good, I'll ask if you've ever heard the Vladivostok Voices choir."
"Let me know if you get cold feet tomorrow, up until about noon anyway -- I should be in the belly of the beast after that. Sleep well, and I hope to see you tomorrow."
By the time the call was finished, Preston was into his apartment building, and could finally relax a bit. At least in theory he could relax, but in practice the 'red eye' had been such a caffeine bomb that he still felt all keyed up. He took a look in his closet, confirming his fears -- none of his shoes were going to fit the job, he'd need to either buy or rent shoes tomorrow. Possibly the tuxedo place would have shoes? He fired off the question to Gisseppi's.
* Gamma: I only have one functioning SIN right now, broadcasting it in those environments makes it unsuitable for more secure work.
"Frag!" Preston swore quietly as he opened his door, and he continued muttering "Fragging IDs are expensive, I hope I don't burn this one. Really need to scrape together the nuyen to get a couple of burners together, then a back up strong ID. Got to remember to place a call about that tomorrow."
Once his door is securely locked behind him, Preston sets up some tasks for his commlink to run deal with while he sleeps. First is the simplest: find images of Lady Tanya Marisart with men over the past few years, then use matrix context and image recognition intelligence to sort them by clothing type. Second is to pull down images of attendees of the opera this year, using image recognition to find ones that show men in his age bracket. Third and easiest is to get the latest catalogs of styles for his Smart-Wig, along with data on popular styles.
It would have been nice to have a solution at hand, but he no longer had the trunk of clothes he'd gathered while working with Fisher. It had gone up in flames with the van -- an honourable death for both no doubt, but both an unfortunate loss.
His Ford Americar would never have the room for that large amount of gear, sadly. It was nicely anonymous, but it lacked the massive cargo capacity. He looked around at his spare room .... he'd been keeping it aside as a work room for Son .... some woman he might share the place with some day, but maybe it was time to start investing in a proper disguise selection. Time to think about how he could build that up, and he'd need some tools for modifications ....
* Gamma: Can't solve all of this tonight.
Well, that was a task for another day. For now he needed some sleep, and then he had to get through tomorrow's adventure.
post 7
[/size]
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Agents are such a useful invention. Yours works even while you sleep. Your in box is packed with information when you wake up in the morning.
Your call to Gisseppi's is robo-answered. There is no direct question to the inquiry about shoes, but you did receive some brochures from the tailor. Looking through them, you see pages and pages of tuxedo styles and accessories, but not one thing on shoes.
Lady Tanya Marisart is apparently not camera shy and there are scads of photos and write ups about her and the various men she has been connected with. At one time or another, she has been romantically linked with many men and does not seem to care if they are married or single. The list includes the Governor, the Mayor and Deputy Mayor of Seattle, the Commander and Vice Commander of the KE presence, trid stars music personalities, sports celebrities, well you get the picture. The gossip rags have published lurid details of her sexual escapades for years and she has never graced any of them with a response either confirming or denying said escapades or romantic links. There are several photos of her walking arm in arm with Gregory Murdoch, the billionaire media mogul, who is listed as her "uncle". The rags have had a field day with that scenario, but apparently Murdoch has had the last laugh on several by buying them up and shutting them down in a most decisive manner, all while ruining the careers of several editors and publishers. Tanya's men have run the gamut of social class and dress. She is a frequent habitué of notorious and popular nightclubs such as Dante's Inferno as well as the more staid opera, symphony, ballet, and theater. Her closet must be extensive because she has been seen in a vast array of clothes.
The agent provides stills of hundreds of men who have attended the opera this year from the social pages of the various news outlets in the city. The list has been narrowed by your specifications to sort by those in an narrow age bracket, but is still extensive.
The latest catalogue for the Smart-Wig is indeed the easiest to get for you. A side effect of this search is the list of companies that send you information and try to sell you an upgraded product.
Even after waking, the agent continues to ping you with additional information on these searches, although the vast bulk of it seems to be the first question about the men Tanya Marisart has been seen with.
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The alarm had been earlier than he liked, and the downside of an internal commlink was that you couldn't just ignore it. Preston tried to pull his thoughts and the data together but it is a struggle-- late evening caffeine blasts take their toll on sleep quality.
* Oleg: damn gossip, don't people have anything worthwhile to do?
* monkey: But more caff will deal with that!
* Gamma: I do perform better after my morning caff
* Coleman: Alertness is key.
Preston gave in to himself, and fired up his soycaff unit. Groggy or not he took the time to filter the water grind a pinch of chicory to add to the soycaff grains. When the machine finally trickles out its burble of dark, fragrant, liquid he can barely wait for it to stop running before he scalds his mouth on the liquid life.
The first soyspresso shot down, he sets up the machine to run a longer cup while he plans his morning. Priority one has to be choosing and building his look for the day. A close second is getting the right shoes to go with the tux - that was going to hurt the cred-stick, but he'd have them for the future. And third was to figure out how to make a good impression on this supposed Lady.
First things first. He goes through the SmartWig catalog to choose something moderately trendy but not too eye-catching --he wants people to remember the hair more than the face, but at the same time he doesn't want it to pull in more attention. Dark brown, he decides, and dense, slightly waved at the front, a shade longer than trendy at the back. Checking it out in the mirror he is pleased to see it makes his jaw look narrower than it anyways is-- he can work with that.
In fact, he knows just the pattern he wants to run in his voice modulator to go with this face, what he had filed as 'sincere tourist #2.'. With its slightly emphasized consonants and ever so slight sibilant on the 's' and 'sh' he thought in sounded earnest but not especially bright. That seemed suitable for the face he was picturing.
Shoes .... He couldn't do anything about yet. So, how to please the Lady? Either she was for real and ould buy anything he brought without blinking, or would be pretending she could. Either way he wasn't going to impress her with gewgaws.
He headed back into the kitchen for on his second caff and it hit him -- cookies. Who didn't like home made cookies He didn't have all the fancy ingredients that a real Lady would be used to, but he could make pretty good sugar cookies and decorate them nicely. He set about getting those started, so that he could get his face on while they baked.
(ooc: more to come, but need to wrap this one up as life is pressing).
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While your cookies are baking, your commlink pings. It is a text from someone named Gloria at Gisseppi's. >>Mister Preston, I am sending this in answer to your message of last night. We do not normally handle shoes here at Gisseppi's, but exceptions can be made for special clients, and Lady Marisart is definitely a special client. A representative of Le Clerc will be here to fit you for shoes that will be sure to match the tuxedo you select. Please contact me if you have any additional questions.<<
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Seattle, 2075
"Well then, that is footwear settled. Although it just seems too easy."
The cookies didn't seem to have an opinion on the matter, so Preston tried to put off his worries and focus on his preparations.
Edmonton, 12 October, 2069
"Well then, that is footwear settled." Fisher sounded almost pleased although so far Preston would not have thought that he was capable of such an emotion.
"It just seems too easy." Preston replied. "I put on these synth-leather cowboy boots and suddenly he won't think I'm from here? I mean I've been gaming with the guy for the past week."
"It's like this kid--none of you ethnic reserve sorts wear cowboy boots, since it's offensive to some of your rulers. He's probably never thought about it, but he's noticed it. Anyway, we'll do a bit more with the disguise, but boots are hardest to fit. Good thing our feet are about the same size."
"I still feel like he'll recognize me somehow from gaming."
"Nah, you'll be fine. I rode along that one time, and when you are your avatar, what did you call it-- Coleman? Yah, when you are Coleman you are all business,facts and figures, tactical analysis. In person you seem less focused on business, less sure of yourself. Normal, in other words. He is NOT going to easily associate you with Coleman."
"So what do I say to him, to life him out of the bostel.?"
"Nothing. Believe me kid, you aren't ready to scam anyone in conversation. Nope,you are just going to check in looking a lot like you might be a bounty hunter, and he's going to leave all on his own, and I'll take it from there. Easy way to earn this bonus money, right?"
"Sounds like you got it all figured out, Fisher."
-
Wednesday, June 6, 2075, Preston's Apartment
The timer on the oven bings, letting you know that the cookies are finished. You factor the current weather conditions, traffic patterns, and construction stoppages into your calculations and set your internal timer to alert you when it is about time to leave.
-
Seattle, 2075[/color]
Preston sets the cookies to cool, checks his timing, and figures he'll be OK if he keeps moving quickly.
An all over bronzer on face and hands to shift his skin tone, some very light hints of colour to better emphasize his cheek bones, a small fake birth mark near one ear... A look in the mirror suggests that it is coming together, but not there yet. He stares, then applied some wash out colour to his eyebrows to better match the wig, and adjusts them to be bushier. Finally he pulls fake glasses from his disguise kit and puts them on.
There, that all fully overemphasizes his upper face, leaving the lower part looking kind of vague and underdeveloped, and it should be easy to remove all of the details that people would be apt to normally remember.
He just has time to quickly make up a glaze for the cookies, use decorative icing tubes to outline some cartoony animal face, and then fill in some portions with candy sprinkles. He takes one last look at them before packing them up.
* Gamma: it seems unlikely that she would have received a gift like this before.
* Monkey: Couldn't I just give booze? If she shares, that would be way more fun.
Maybe he should have gone for wine? Bu no time now. He packs up the cookies, then after a moment of hesitation packs his taser, turned off,into the smuggling compartment in his arm. You just never know...
Then down to the garage, into his American, and into his day.
-
Wednesday, 6 June, 0945, Gisseppi's Tailoring, Seattle Downtown
First stop is the tailor, Gisseppi's. The address is a small shop in the Downtown district, sandwiched between two large buildings. The store is fairly non-descript and you might normally walk past it. The embossed letters above the storefront proclaim this as "Gisseppi's - Fine Tailoring". Entering, you see four suits displayed on a rack and a counter separating the small customer area and whatever lies beyond the curtained doorway behind it. A young woman raises her head from something she is sewing on by hand and says, "Good morning, sir. May I help you?"
-
"I certainly hope so. I think I have an appointment at 10am, I wasn't the one who made it, but I had confirmation that someone from a show place would come then as well so I'm pretty sure it is actually booked and actually for 10."
* Gamma: That did not come across as confident and suave
* Coleman: I have given away the initiative, I should try to seize it back
* Monkey: I should try to seize some soycaff, I've been up way too long, this sucks
* Coleman: asking for soycaff would reveal further weakness
* Gamma: in a situation like this, finding my voice that understand social situations and making it clearer might be useful
* Oleg: Oh hell no! There are too many of us already.
Preston takes a deep breath, and takes another shot at this whole introduction thing. "Sorry, apparently the soycaff is wearing thin already. I have a 10am appointment to get a tuxedo fitted. I hope that I'm not to early."
-
Posting a mix of posts Mercy and I had via email
The woman smiles and comes around the counter to offer her hand. “Mister Preston? I am Gloria. I believe that we communicated by text earlier. You are a bit early, but that is no trouble. Could you please come through?” She leads you back behind the counter and through the curtain. A short hallway leads to a much larger workroom. Racks of material adorn the walls and three young men are working on various stages of some suit, supervised by a much older man and a middle-aged woman. Everyone looks up as you enter the room, but the three young men quickly put their heads back down to their work. Gloria says, Signore Gisseppi, this is Mister Preston. The special appointment for Lady Marisart.”
The old man breaks into a smile and chatters on in Italian for a couple of minutes while the middle-aged woman comes forward, also smiling. “Good morning Signore Preston. My name is Sofia. Pardon my father, please. He is telling the world what a privilege it is to serve the Lady Marisart and how more people should be like her. I understand that you need a tuxedo and it has to be ready by this afternoon. Would you mind please removing your shoes and standing on this stool here?”
Preston does as he is told, then after a moment he clears his throat self consciously, and says in Italian "I didn't want to intrude, but I felt it would be rude to continue without telling you that I speak some Italian. Not good enough to understand everything you have said; my ear is too slow and I think some of it was clothing words I don't know."
They chat for a couple of minutes, the rust gradually wearing off of Preston's Italian as he uses it and they slow things down for him a bit. He discovers that he apparently learned from someone who spoke Neopolitan, although the explanation of the differences is too subtle for him to make a lot of sense out of.
But soon Signore Gisseppi and the others return their focus on the task at hand and their conversation to each other, only occasionally breaking up the professional discussion with a comment to Preston.
The woman and her father start by walking around you and chattering on in Italian. Both pull out tape measures and take measurements of your body in several places. With the measurements noted on a data pad, the old man goes to the racks of material and brings one bolt over at a time. Sometimes he only takes a step from the rack before he shakes his head and goes back for a different color or type of cloth. He holds the material to you and judges how the color matches your pigmentation, again rejecting most but finally settles on three.
It has gradually been dawning on Preston that they are planning to make a tuxedo for him, rather than adjusting a rental tux to fit him. He berates himself "How could I have missed that there are no racks of rental tuxes around?" but leaves the rest of the mental recriminations for later -- he has to decide on whether or not to say anything.
Nothing had been said about the cost of this, but he'd assumed he'd pay for a rental. Paying for what appeared to be a master tailor to do a rush order of a custom made tux would cost, actually he had not the foggiest clue what that would cost. Thousands, most likely. If the payment came through for the Carlin Street job maybe he'd be able to pay ... no, he had to assume that Lady Marisart was covering this, if it was actually her she was working for. If they expected a cred-stick before he walked out the door, well, he just wouldn't be getting a tux.
Sofia looks at you and says, “These are the best three. Do you have a preference for the color?”
The colors all looked the same to him, but it suddenly occurs to him that since this is not an off the rack job, there are decisions to be made about how it looks. He's not entirely that anyone in this whole crazy situation will listen to him, or that he can even describe what he wants, but it would be crazy not to try, right?
* Gamma: Defining what is crazy has always been a difficult thing
* Oleg: I wonder if I could ask for a concealed holster?
Again Preston clears his throat, and doing his best in Italian he says "I'm sure Lady Marisart gave you directions about what she wants, and she is the customer for both you and I, so I don't want to say 'no' to what she wants. Not at all. And because this is for her, the clothing should make her look good, and you know best about that."
Looking around, Preston thinks the faces look more annoyed by the interruption to their flow than interested in what he is trying to get at, so he hurries on to his point. "I am not happy in the spotlight. I need to look good beside Lady Marisart, but I want the attention on her, not on me. If it is on me, I hope that they remember most the nice tuxedo, less how I look. I don't know what that means in terms of fashion details, but maybe it makes sense to you?"
"Also, for the choice of colors, maybe the problem is that I have on a wig, and some color on my face, so my color is not quite natural? It is how I plan to be all the day and night, but if the colors are confusing you then I don't have them quite right, and should change either hair or skin I think."
-
The two talk a mile a second, completely foiling your ability to get more than every fourth word or so. Sofia stops talking and turns to you, smiling. "Then it is not to worry. We have a supply of some material that can change its coloring as you wish. Would that suit you better? Is Lady Marisart finally getting smart and hiring a guard for herself? If so, maybe a holster for a gun? If so, please tell me what sort and style of gun you use. My father will make it invisible and protected from most scanners."
-
The two talk a mile a second, completely foiling your ability to get more than every fourth word or so. Sofia stops talking and turns to you, smiling. "Then it is not to worry. We have a supply of some material that can change its coloring as you wish. Would that suit you better? Is Lady Marisart finally getting smart and hiring a guard for herself? If so, maybe a holster for a gun? If so, please tell me what sort and style of gun you use. My father will make it invisible and protected from most scanners."
* Oleg: That is a lot of questions!
* Gamma: I do have a few pieces of elctrochromatic clothing already
* Coleman: More tactical options from electrochromatic fabric would be advantageous
* Monkey: No!!! This is a NICE thing, no messing with it! Have you LOOKED at that fabric? NONONO!!!
Preston rocked slightly at the force of Monkey's convictions -- the voice hadn't thrown that sort of tantrum since he'd been kicking his hot sim habit. Originally he'd isolated Monkey as the voice of his addictions but it had turned out to be more than that -- it was all his uncontrolled desires. As such it mostly had to be controlled, but totally denying it was both impossible and unwise.
"I do make use of electrochramatic fabric. In fact ..." With a flick of his mind his white shirt shifts to a cheerful sky blue. "....I'm wearing such a shirt right now. I know it isn't the right sort of shirt for a tuxedo, and I suppose I need to arrange a proper shirt as well, along with a bow tie and whatever it is one calls that thing around the waist. But back to the question: for the tuxedo, no, I think I'd rather just have an honest cloth. This will be the nicest thing I own, and I think I'd rather leave the colour and texture to the experts. Perhaps I will simply plan to use similar skin tones in the future when I want to look my best in a tux."
"On the other hand, the hidden holster may be a good idea. If you will permit me. Preston rolls up his left sleeve, then pops open the smuggling compartment to remove his taser. "This may be hopelessly naive of me, but hopefully at any occasion where I'd wear a tuxedo this will be sufficient."
"Thinking along such lines, without ruining the lines, would it be possibe to cut it such that if I were to obtain one of those very thin protective vests, I could wear it underneath? Sadly at the moment I have only a standard armor vest, which I think would be too bulky."
"I don't know how such things are divided up -- can you also provide shirt, tie, and cummerbund--that is the word I was looking for? If so, perhaps the color changing option for those two would be possible? If you are more specialized for suits, can you suggest someone able to provide those on no notice?"
"And to answer your first question, I should probably let Lady Marisart comment on such things."
It is only at the end that Preston realizes that Monkey had thrown him so off-kilter that he'd said all of this in English, that he hadn't even tried to reply in Italian. He gives a quick apology in Italian, but Sophia waves it off and rapidly summarizes for Signore Gissepi.
Choosing one of the fabrics, the man smiles and nods and puts the others back on the rack. He claps his hands and the three young men jump up and clear all that they have been working on from their tables and get to work. Sofia says, “Now the fun begins, Signore Preston. I will take you to our small waiting area. My father may have some additional measurements and he will want to try at least one early fitting, but he understands that you have other things to do. I understand that Le Clerc is sending someone over about your shoes and I expect them any minute. Would you care for some coffee while you wait?”
She leads you to a well appointed waiting room and esconces you in a comfortable chair while she goes to a small pot and pours you some coffee. Turning to you, she says, “All I have to offer today is a Mediterranean blend. It is quite good. If you prefer soycaf to real coffee, I can go out and get you some from the building next door. Cream, milk, sugar?”
"For this -- black, please!" Preston loses himself in the aroma rising from the cup, prolongin anticipation for as long as he can.
She disappears back into the other room and you barely have time to enjoy the aroma of the coffee when you hear an argument from out in the work room. One voice seems to be the elder Gisseppi, and the other is speaking in French.
* Monkey: They aren't going to disturb me while I'm having real coffee, are they?
Preston decides that as long as he doesn't hear screams or gun-shots, he'll let the drama play out and simply enjoy his coffee.
Voices are raised and then Sofia brings a balding little man into the waiting room. He has a small black bag with him and is snorting to Sofia in broken English about how he should not have to take the abuse from her father. After all, he has a pride, too. The man is brought to you and bows formally before you. “Michel Le Clerc at your service, Monsieur Preston. I am to work miracles and provide you with footwear fit for a king.” He looks over his shoulder and yells out. “And for this abuse I do not need to come to the cheap shop of a jumped needle man that produces unsatisfactory ladies wear.” The response is lots of yelling in Italian and Sofia pokes her head in the door. “Uncle, please?” The man shrugs his shoulders and looks at you as he opens his bag. “Can you believe it? My sister would marry that man. An Italian? Such a scandal.” He winks and says in a much lower voice, “You will find no finer tailor in Seattle, probably in the world, Monsieur Preston. We have been arguing like this for over forty years. The world will be a much sadder place when he passes on to join my sister. Now to your shoes, shall we?”
By this point Preston is barely surprised that he is apparently to deal with another master craftsman.
* Gamma: If this is a scam, there will be some proud craftsmen looking to collect on large bills.
Preston gulps the last of the coffee faster than it deserves, and tries his best to be engaging. "I don't know about 'fit for a king,' although I suspect that may be the quality you tend to deliver anyway. They need to go well with a tuxedo; be good for a reasonable amount of walking -- or in the case of a dire emergency dancing; preferably be wearable with slightly less formal clothes since these will be the nicest shoes I have by a couple of orders of magnitude but I doubt I'll have that many occasions to wear a tuxedo; not attract too much attention but please the eye of those who do pay attention to shoes."
"Well, that is probably what you do anyway, but I thought it worth being clear what sort of shoes I was looking for." Then thinking of how flexible the tailors have been, he adds "And if there was a way to allow a space where a lock pick could be inserted where it would be extremely hard to find -- perhaps just above the heel -- that would be a nice to have. I don't ever expect to need such a thing, but I suppose the fanciest occasions might the ones where one is the biggest target for abduction."
Thirty minutes later, Le Clerc leaves, setting off another round of arguments back and forth as he passes back through the work room. Sofia returns to ask you to come back out and puts you on the small stool again. Some material has been rough cut and Gisseppi places swaths of material across your arms and back and takes some new measurements. When done he talks to Sofia, who nods vigorously then turns to you. “Papa says that you are done here, Signore Preston. Please believe that we will have your tuxedo delivered to Lady Marisart this afternoon early enough to try it on, but you should not worry. My father will make this perfect, although he says that should you require another one to please give him more time.” She waits for you to put your shoes back on and escorts you back out to the main shop area. Gloria is with another client but looks up at you with a nod and smile. Standing on the wide sidewalk, you wonder a bit at what just happened and check your chronometer. It is just past noon and you have enough time to swing by Sonya’s flower shop before heading off to the Gates.
Preston has to pause and give his head a shake when he exits the shop.
* Coleman: I need to remember how disorienting this is, next time I'm trying to get someone else off their game.
* Monkey: When can we go back?
* Oleg: They have a nice scam of their own: charge you and arm and a leg and make you happy to get your arm back on a fragging silver platter.
* Coleman: Another tactic I must remember.
Preston calls his car, and head off for what is apt to be an even more disorienting experience: picking up flowers from his ex-lover, and probably best friend, to take to another woman.
-
The drive to Sonya's shop is unremarkable except for the fact that it is too short for you to really figure out what to say to her. In some manner, she apparently knows about the "date", but that does not mean that she is comfortable with it. All too soon, the autopilot places you at the parking lot opposite her florist shop.
-
Crocus & Co. More familiar than his own apartment. More ‘home’ than his apartment was, for that matter. But Sonya’s business and home-away-from-home, not his.
It had only been six weeks since the last time he walked through that door. It felt like yesterday, it felt like an eternity. Same bell as he opened the door. Same welcoming scents of greenery and pollen – and of Sonya. Sonya standing there, wearing if not the exact same outfit as last time then one at least very similar– her unofficial work uniform of green blouse and brown knee length skirt, practical shoes, hair pulled back into a braid. That had the same effect of emphasizing her big green eyes, that he could lose himself in so easily, same as always.
Same ache in his heart. Same jumble of thoughts and emotions, same cacophony of should-have, could have, could-yet. The same thought that maybe he should find a name for the voice of heart-break; the same memory that whenever he tried all he came up with was an image of a bleeding rose but no name.
Same rationalizations on why he had to stay away from her, for her own good. Same cry from some nameless corner of his mind “But what about my good?” Same echoing silence as the rest of him still had the same lack of an answer.
Same stilted conversation, for all that the words were different.
Preston started. “Thank you for hooking me up with the job.” Flat, like thanking someone for holding the door open for you
Sonya replies with a veneer of emotion, banter with someone you’ve shared the elevator with many times before. “You are welcome. She’s a very major customer, so I hope when this is done I’ll be thanking you for taking it, not cursing you for losing me so much business.”
And that was all it took, Preston couldn’t maintain an air of indifference anymore. “Is business bad? Did you take yourself a cut on this job, because you should, if she didn’t offer I can give you”
Sonya stopped him mid-sentence with a slight shake of her head. “Business is fine – I mean the same as ever. I’m still not going to retire to Hawaii anytime soon, but I’m still doing OK.”
Preston finally moved into the store far enough to let the door close behind him with another tinkle of the bell. “Are you sure? You look thinner, I was worried that maybe money was tight – if it is ever tight, let me know, right?”
“Preston: You are the only one who thinks me getting thinner is a bad thing, everyone else just says ‘it’s a good start.’” Sonya tilts her head to one side, then offers “Maybe one of only two: there is that dwarf who sometimes scavenges wilted flowers from the dumpster who worries about me losing weight too. For that matter, I’ve seen him around more lately than you.”
“Spend any amount of time in the barrens and ‘thin’ doesn’t look so good anymore. You need to show that you are prosperous, that you can afford food, that …”
Again it took only a subtle move of her head to stop him. “Michael, we’ve been through this before, and we aren’t together anymore so you don’t get a vote.”
“Just ….. don’t take it too far, please. You weren’t born to look like an elf, and that is OK. And please, not my actual name”
“Preston then? Or Peter Maloch, if you haven’t changed IDs again already? Do you know how hard it is, when I don’t even know what to call you?”
“I … I … “ Preston’s face twists as emotions struggle to become words, but when words come out they are stripped of emotion. “Look, I need to get these flowers. If this is real. I met the supposed assistant to this supposed Lady. You’ve met them before, they are for real? I mean, I know the name is for real, but was that actually the assistant, is the Lady really my client?”
“Yes, I’ve met them both. Monique more often as she normally arranges things like flowers, but I’ve met Lady Marisart too. She’s English, red-headed, seems to have more money than she knows what to do with, but at least some of it comes to businesses like mine and she does a lot of charitable work too. She seems decent, for what she is; she talks to me more like a real person than some of my corporate clients do, and she seems to actually care about how flowers look, not just how expensive or rare or exotic they are.”
“So, do you have any idea what this is really about?”
“No. You will come back and tell, after, right? Call that my finder’s fee. I might have enough money, but enough vicarious excitement perhaps not so much.” Then her hand flies to her mouth “I never thought, are you seeing someone? Is that why you haven’t been by?”
“No, nothing like that. I’ve just been … just … just BEING. Trying to be me, be normal, I guess? I don’t know what normal is, I don’t think, but you know, present in day to day life, not buzzing through it on Jazz, living something better in hot sim, just … trying to be bored, be tired, be in pain, be”
“Pain? Have you been hurt?”
“No, nothing like that. Just …” Just my heart. “Just life, you know? It hurts sometimes. You know, even when nothing is hurting right now, the past, everything…”
Sonya nods. Silence falls, and a deeper conversation finally happens, spoken in subtle shifts of muscles, hummingbird light touches of eyes, pheromones, and thoughts that still have drawer set aside in each other’s minds.
Finally Sonya intrudes on the silence, apologizing with a watery smile and trying to hide possibly watery eyes. “I have everything you need put together. Corsage, boutonnière, bundle of roses that she’ll apparently be giving to the performers. I’ll show you how to hold it properly, in case she wants you to do while she hands them out. Tell her that the floral decorations for her party will be delivered in plenty of time.”
As Sonya pulls the items out of her cooler, Preston indulges in a lingering look at the curves of her posterior, then finally responds “Yes, business is …. Business.” Preston says the last word like it tastes bad, then brightens up and adds “I got fitted for a custom tuxedo this morning, before coming here. Not a rental, a real one! I just hope she is paying for that, but this guy, the tailor he’s just amazing, he is such a professional at what he does, and seems to love it so much. You just don’t meet many people like that, you know? A guy for shoes who was much the same. I love that, people who combine so much expertise and love for what they do. Like, like, …. “ Sonya turns around, arms full of packages of flowers, and Preston finishes off “Oh.”
Their eyes frantically discuss how to get them out of this moment, then Preston closes his while Sonya turns her head to put flowers down on the counter.
“I should”
“You probably need to”
“Holding flowers”
“Right!”
A hurried lesson, held out of touching distance, the two doing a dance of one approaching the counter while the other retreats. Finally Preston is the one with arms full of flowers, Sonya holding the door for him. He passes so close to her that he can feel her heat, before passing out into the cool, rainy, afternoon.
Sonya calls after him “You’ll remember?”
How to hold the flowers? To tell her about the opera? About the job? About how he still feels? “Of course” he lies, hoping that his turned back and the sound of rain will let her pretend to believe him.
-
(posting for Mercy)
Standing outside the door of the shop, your brain tells you, “That was so fragging………………..something. What is wrong with her? What is wrong with me?”
Realizing that there is just about no good answer to those questions, you return to your car and carefully place the flowers on the passenger seat before walking around to the drivers side. At this point, it is just easier to let the autopilot handle the driving so you can mope about what you should have said. Frag, why do you always think of the good words after you leave? The car follows the speed limit, but still does not take too long to arrive at the towers of the Gates Undersound Hotel. A quick matrix search has told you that the hotel is one of the more prestigious addresses in Seattle. The five-star restaurant is actually under the water of the sound and connected to the rest of the hotel by tubing made of the same clear materials as the dining room is to allow the guests to see the wonders of the sea from up close. The bottom three floors of the hotel itself are massive suites that are advertised to be under the water and have huge, floor-to-ceiling windows that look right into the sound. Your car pulls up to a security booth and the uniformed man in a glassed-in box asks you for a pass, which you hand to him. He looks at it and whistles. He hands it back and tells you, “Sir, you are at the public entrance and need to go to the private entrance. The two sections do not connect.” He gives you directions and you back out and go to the private entrance.
The guard here takes more time to look at the pass and asks you to please wait while he makes a call to verify that it is authentic. While he is on the phone, you observe that the man is wearing some sort of holster harness under his uniform and that it is situated so that he can draw a weapon quickly if called on to do so. There are also several camera sensors focused on this part of the garage. Apparently satisfied, the guard provides you with an ARO map to your parking spot and tells you to take the elevator at the south end of the level and someone will meet you there. You casually drive through a field of luxury cars and find your assigned spot. You have several choices of spaces marked “Guest - Tanya Marisart”. The only vehicle currently in any of the three spaces reserved as “Private – Tanya Marisart” is a magnificent Mirage motorcycle. Taking the flowers from the passenger side, you lock up and walk to the elevator, which is perhaps thirty feet from where you park and you find that the only buttons inside are listed for the four levels of the garage and the lobby. Feeling a bit frisky, you almost push all of the buttons, but realize in time that there are probably cameras in here and you do not want to have security waiting for you.
Monique is waiting for you when the door opens, along with two young men in hotel uniforms and two men who could pass as bouncers in a bar who are also wearing hotel uniforms, but with the added aspect of some serious pistols at their hips. She asks them to take the flowers and gives you an odd look before turning to them. “Please take these to the scanners and then down to U3A. Wait if I am not there and I will be along shortly.” When the men disappear around the corner, she turns to you with a stern look. “Mister Preston? Your appearance is not the same as I remember. Can you please explain that to my satisfaction?”
-
Preston’s thoughts were still working their way clear of the flower shop, so he is uncharacteristically slow to respond; he stairs at the assistant for a full second before he realizes what she’s talking about.
“Oh, my face and hair. Of course I changed them. Don’t you when you are going out?”
Honesty prompts him to add “Granted maybe not to the same purpose: I do it to NOT be remembered, while the stereotype is that women do it TO be remembered. Although looking at the war paint some use, I think really it amounts to the same thing: present an image that will be remembered, without having to live in that image all of the time.”
He shrugs, thinking that really the less said the better, but his frustration with this job drives more words out of his lips. “Look, I don’t know what I was really hired for. Certainly not my trid-star looks or presence or my sparkling social skills. You can dress me up however you like, but I’m still a matrix gamer -- his is the avatar I chose for today. This is what I do for every job -- If you didn’t know this about how I operate, you might not have asked enough questions. But don’t worry, the tux was all done while I had this look on, so I haven’t spoiled the look there.”
-
Monique smiles. "Thank you for the explanation. I am sorry if this is all a bit out of the ordinary, and I hope that my employer can answer all of your questions. Matrix gamer, eh? What a coincidence. Please come with me." She walks ahead of you to a bank of elevators, one of which is open. She is wearing a just-above-the-knee length skirt that swishes from side to side as she walks. A security guard in the hotel uniform is standing there and she shows him a pass of some kind. He nods and looks at you as she tells him you are with her. The elevator only has buttons for U1, U2, U3, and L inside. Monique presses the one for U3 and the door closes silently behind you. As you descend, she turns to you. "Have you been to the Gates before, Mister Preston? It is a very unique hotel, in my opinion."
The door opens on a hallway and she leads you to suite A. opening the door, she motions for you to come in and follows you. Your first impression is that the main living area is at least five times the size of your entire apartment. At least. Your eyes are drawn to the windows at the far end of the room. The stretch from floor to ceiling and look out under the water right into the sound. A large, well appointed kitchen is off to the right and you can see a formal dining room to the left that can probably seat at least twelve. Your attention is brought back to the living room by a woman yelling out "Yes!" You can see the back of her head, which is covered with red curls. Her hands are out in front of her and she seems to be controlling one of the figures on a huge trid screen on the wall in front of her. Monique motions for you to remain and goes over to whisper in the woman's ear. You hear the redhead say in a very distinctive British accent, "What? Is it that time already? Why did you not tell me. Wait, you probably did. Bloody hell."
The woman stands up and you get your first in-person look at Lady Tanya Astasia Marisart as she moves to greet you. It is not overly impressive. She is about five foot five and maybe 120 pounds. She is wearing pink pajamas and from how what she has under her top is moving, she is not currently wearing a bra. She has what can only be describes as pink bunny slippers on her feet. She reaches out a hand and says, "How do you do, Mister Preston. I am Tanya Marisart. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am sorry for my state but I got involved in the latest championship version of Street Fighter and lost track of time. You don't play, by any chance, do you? The duo mode of this game is fantastic, but I cannot seem to find anyone who wants to play with me."
-
* Oleg: I will not laugh at my employer, even if she is a rich English twit
* Gamma: This sort of behavior and attire is quite normal for gamers
* Oleg: I will not laugh at my employer
* Coleman: For an AR game, this much open space and easy moving clothes are a good plan.
* Oleg: I will NOT laugh at my employer
* Monkey: maybe the games she wants to play aren't in the matrix? Ook-ook!
* Oleg: I WILL NOT laugh
Preston laughs. After all the tension, doubt, worries ... this was the last thing he expected, and he just can't stop himself.
Gasping he says "I'm sorry, I'm really sorry ... I'd just built you up to be this ... this ... frightfully proper English aristocrat. You know, you don't have to hire me to get me to play games."
He takes a moment to get himself back under control, then adds "Of course I play. Brawlers aren't my specialty, but I've dabbled in everything. Years ago I thought maybe I could go pro in tactical team simulation games. If I'd tried I'd probably still be slinging soycaff and being frightfully serious about it all. I try to play just for fun now."
* Monkey: I should tell her about some of the stuff I did last year when I was hot-simming "Invasion: Mars!"
* Oleg: She might be one of those eccentric english-people, but I will not brag about what I did while addicted to hot-sim to anyone. Some things are best buried.
Preston look from Lady Marisart to Monique and back again. "But to play dual-mode, you'll have to invite me onto your home PAN." He finally spares a look at the space and the luxury; he'd thought his four room apartment with private garage was quite nice, but it looks like a hovel compared to this place. "That is, PAN, or maybe it's a host? Either way, I promise not to go poking around."
* Monkey: Did I really have to promise that? Who knows what she has in here?
post 15
-
Tanya laughs, too. “Oh, Mister Preston, I did not hire you for your gaming skills. No, that is just a happy and somewhat unexpected side benefit for me. And I really prefer to not call you Mister Preston. Is there a first name I may use? And please call me Tanya. As long as we might be working together we might as well use first names. If you do not mind, that is. And I can applaud your impression of stuffy asshole British aristocrats. My father and mother certainly were, my cousin definitely is one. However, I think that you would find my uncle to not be one and I try very hard to be one only when I need to be.”
"It certainly isn't 'Mr. Preston,' I agree that is horrible. Preston is a nickname, I guess, but I pretty much use it as a first name. Or you could call me" he has to take a moment to remember the name of his current ID '"Peter,' which might be better since that is what anyone looking at me in AR will see."
She motions to the couch, “But come on, let me get you set up and maybe you can help me knock off a mission I have not been able to do solo.” She grins and runs to the couch, sliding over the back to take a seat. Your initial view of the room and its luxury tells you that nothing here is ornate or ostentatious. The furnishings are low-key, but everything suggests that you are looking at things with costs that have gone well beyond the wow range and well into the zowie area.
Monique calls out, “Milady, really now. What……”
“Hush Monique, I have a chance to get past this block. And since we are dining here I do not need to get dressed until after. Besides, the tux is not here yet and everything else is arranged for the party. We will do the briefing at dinner.”
Monique lifts her head and rolls her eyes but nods. “Of course, milady.”
Tanya lifts up an arm rest of the couch and pulls out a second controller. “Ok. I am sending you the codes to the PAN. And you can snoop all you want; this PAN is connected to nothing but the entertainment and sound systems. There you are. Just enter a password and user ID you want and in you are quicker than Bob’s your uncle. Oh, and if you are not into this game so much, what is your fav? I might have tried it.” You hear a snort and a short laugh from somewhere behind you in the room. Tanya raises a hand above her head and makes a crude gesture before lowering it back to her lap and the controller. “Please pay no attention to the serving wench. Let’s play.”
When you are in and set up, Tanya looks around then giggles and says, “Sound up a bit, I think.” She hits a button and noise comes from speakers all around the room, immersing you in a bleeding edge surround-sound system. During game play Tanya is having fun; pure unadulterated fun and she shows it by laughing, squealing, and moaning at times as she does well or fails. She is easy with her congratulations when you make a good play and absolutely into winning when it come to the boss mob at the end of the mission. At times she lets her shoulder bump against you by accident as she moves the controller in the way that enthusiasts do. She is probably not a good candidate for the sort of special team you once considered, but she is an excellent player. It is pretty obvious that she likes to win, but likes the fun of the game more. When the boss is finished off, she yells “Yes!” before tossing the controller aside and jumping up to do a short victory dance, turning about and bending over in some sort of odd celebration of victory. Sitting next to her for the past hour might have let you forget that she is an adult woman, but you are clearly reminded that she is one as her breasts move under the pajama top and her rather nice butt is emphasized when she bends over. She flops back down on the couch next to you after finishing her little dance. “Whew! That feels bloody fragging good. Thank you ever so much. I have been trying to get that guy for weeks. And sorry for getting you wiped twice. I got turned around when he hit me and could not get back on target in time to save you. Hmmm. Still not quite 1500 yet. What is it you like to play? We can try to get a start at it, if you like?” The smile on her face is a hint that she would like it.
* Monkey: That was fun!
* Coleman: Our performance was decent, but on the final boss I think we need to increase our arc of separation by another 10 or so degrees, and compensate by closing the radius to keep in support range. That should reduce the time to dodge out of the sliver blast by about 0.1 seconds, which should more than compensate for the slightly reduced travel time on the boss's shockwave blast. In turn this should allow the second target to avoid pulling out of combat for a healing orb the third time, presuming we focus shields on that avatar during the final burn phase. That increased up-time should let us knock at least three or four percent off our overall boss kill time.
Oleg: A decent woman shouldn't be shaking her ta-tas around like that.
Monkey: Maybe she isn't a decent woman! Do I have time for indecent thoughts?
Preston firmly turns his thoughts to other possible AR games, and away from possible sources of trouble. It is a surprisingly difficult question -- games he has played in the last few years could mostly be divided into 'things he played while addicted to hot sim' which he doesn't want to touch just now, and 'extremely violent and anti-social games he played to blow off his frustration with life' which he doesn't want to admit to. Then inspiration hits.
"Have you ever played, or even heard, of a game called 'Ourobos'? It is a two player game, where we control a two headed snake. We each have full control of one head and the first link of body next to that head, then the next link if 90% the nearest head and 10% the far one, the 80/20, and so on. So you mostly control the part nearest you, it is completely shared in the middle, but you have some influence toward the far end."
"It is quite hard just to get the snake to move at all -- basic modes are crawling or forming a hoop that can roll, by the way. I'm told that once you complete an introductory level there is quite a challenging set of missions to complete where you have to use all sorts of crazy moves. I've never had a chance to play it with someone who likes -- and is good at -- games. We may not have time to figure out how to do much more than crawl and roll, but ... want to give it a shot?"
Preston tries very hard not to think about how Tanya is going to look while twisting and contorting. That is not at ALL why he suggested this game.
-
for Mercy
Tanya laughs but her ‘link is already putting up a catalogue of matrix games on the trid viewer. She glides effortlessly to where Ourobos is and brings it up. “Nope. Never even tried this one.” She raises her voice a bit. “Someone I know is only into the big MMOs and won’t try two or three player games like this.” There is a slight chuckle from somewhere behind you and then Monique says in a loud voice, “Won’t waste my valuable time with the piddly stuff. Call Petra over if you want to go three player anything.” Tanya looks over at you. “Now that is an idea. If you decide to stick around and take the job, we could get her to come over once in a while. I think you might like her, but she is a bit on the stuffy side.” There is a rude sound from off somewhere like someone just snorted a drink. “Anyway, you will see her at the party tonight and can make your own opinion then. So let’s see how this game goes.”
It is indeed a different game and there is a good bit of twisting and turning involved with the console. Despite it not being the main reason you mentioned the game, more than once your eyes are treated to a nice view down the front of Tanya’s pajama top as you both try to control the snake. Although you do not get very far, it seems to be a lot of fun, but the game time is interrupted when Monique steps in front of the trid screen and announces that dinner is served. Tanya reluctantly shuts the system down and puts the two consoles back into the arm of the couch. She stands and says, “I guess this part of the fun is over. She reaches out and puts her arm in yours and takes you into the dining room where you see that there are three place settings. Several steaming trays and platters cover the middle of the table and everything smells wonderful. She motions for you to take the single seat on one side of the table while she sits opposite from you. Monique serves from the trays and then sits next to Tanya. After a few bites, Tanya looks up at you and says, “OK. Here it is, Peter. Like that name, by the way. You were not selected quite by chance. And this is not simply an opportunity for you to eat, see the opera, and escort me to my own party. But I rather imagine that you have already tumbled to that. I am looking for someone with certain skills to assist me in a major project. That project I will not discuss because you might not fit my needs, however I will tell you what I want from you tonight. I will pick someone at random from among the list of people attending my little party. They will also be at the opera, but not in our box. I want you to observe this person and tell me everything you can about him or her. I will allow you to use any sort of methods you like to gather information, to include the matrix. Be innovative. Be bold. You will have one week and then you will tell me what you have found out. I think that you will find that I do not do things by half-steps. I appreciate hard work and I appreciate even more hard work with results I can use. I will pay you 5000 nuyen for the week regardless of the quality of your information, and another 5000 if I like your work. And you may keep the tux and shoes.”
Tanya takes a few more bites while you digest this information then points her fork at you and says, “If you want out we can still have fun at the opera and the party afterward. No harm done and no hard feelings. If you want in, we can talk about other things. As a teaser, please consider this next week a job interview, as I will have lots more work for you if you fit in. So, Peter, in or out?””
-
"I'm certainly in."
"I do need to know what limits you may want. Can I start tonight? I presume you won't answer questions about the person -- does this apply to your staff too? Can I work with them enough to abscond with a drinking glass? Would you object if I dropped a stealth tag on the mark here -- I understand if you don't because if it is found soon it may be obvious when it was planted. In short, let me know what I can't do."
Preston realizes he is smiling broadly.
* Monkey: Woot-woot, this is going to be fun!
-
"You will be starting tonight after I give you the name, but you will not get to begin anything except conversation and matrix searches tonight. The only other real restrictions are to not get caught and do not implicate me. I am glad that you are in, Peter. I hope that you have a good time with this exercise."
The food is excellent, perhaps some of the best you have ever had. Tanya and Monique are good conversationalists and it is easy to tell that, despite the repartee, they are good friends and not just mistress and servant. Just as dinner ends, there is a knock at the door and Monique goes to answer it. She is gone several minutes and when she returns she says, "The valet is here to help Mister Preston get dressed." Tanya thanks her and looks at you. "Ready for this?" She stands and walks toward her room, removing her pajama top as she goes. By the time she reaches the door she has it off, revealing her bare back before going through the door. Monique shakes her head then motions for you to follow her, taking you to one of the rooms that open off the living area.
The bedroom beyond is huge and very nicely appointed, with a queen sized bed, two nightstands, a large desk with a chair and a table with two more comfortable looking chairs. A large walk-in closet is off to the right. Your tuxedo is hanging on a suit rack and a new shirt, tie and other trappings of the well dressed social elite are arrayed on the bed. An older gentleman in the uniform of the hotel is waiting for you. He bows to you and introduces himself as Milton. "I will be dressing you, sir. Have you worn a tuxedo before?"
-
7:05pm, 27 May, 2070 Grand Rapids, Michigan
"You ever worn a tuxedo before, kid?"
"No, Fisher, and I don't get why we are going to wear them now."
"Well, for starters you can rent 'em cheap, and since I can't drive around with every disguise in the world in my truck, its a nice way to change things up. But second a tux is a kind of uniform, and uniforms have a wonderful power -- people see 'em, classify you, and stop thinking about you. Well, most do, the dangerous ones won't."
Preston thought about it for a moment, then shook his head "That doesn't make sense. A uniform that is out of place is really going to stand out."
Fisher nodded "Exactly. And what will people remember? 'A construction worker standing outside the bank, looking impatient' or 'two guys looking like they were dressed for a wedding or fancy party, drinking their sorrows in a dive bar.' The stories almost write themselves. And none of those stories are going to have 'Bounty hunter' as the main character."
"I don't know, anyway, I don't know how to tie a bowtie."
"Don't worry, for what we paid, the ties and cummberbunds are clip on. Which is what we want, don't want to look too rich."
"Do I have to pay for my own rental out of my stipend?"
"Nah, this one's on me. I need you to make me blend in better, so I've got it covered. When we go into the bar, remember, let me do all the talking."
"I know: you drive, you talk, you use the chainsaw."
===
11:17pm, 27 May, 2070 Grand Rapids, Michigan
Preston and Fisher had seen the dwarf put down enough beer to float a good sized boat, but she'd still picked up on their move in time to make it into her brand new two-seater.
"Get out of my way you damn monkeys, or I'll run you down."
"Here you go, Fisher." Preston came running back from the truck with Fisher's monofilament chainsaw. The older man fired it up with a ear-stabbing roar. Over the noise he yelled back at the dwarf "Give it up Maybelle -- I'll open up that thing like a pack of tofu, and drag you out. Or spare the car and give up now."
"You're crazy, I can make this baby dance around you like you were from 2050."
Fisher took a step toward the car as he revved the chainsaw. "You sure you want to chance it? I'm quicker than you think."
The car started sidling backwards, Fisher moved to keep the gap constant, keeping the chainsaw loud enough to drown out the yelling of their target.
The car suddenly stopped. Fisher let the chainsaw swing loose in his right hand while his left hand had made a Remington Roomsweeper appear from somewhere. "Nice job on shutting down the car, kid. Got it unlocked, too?"
"Of course! Ran a few scripts on it and it opened up like a crocus in Spring. But, uh, you weren't really going to try and stop the car with a chainsaw?"
"Naw, I just wanted to fix her attention while you hacked the thing in the matrix sense of the word. Chainsaws make a great distraction."
===========================================
6 June, 2075, Seattle
"I have worn a 'tuxedo' before, but it was a cheap rental with clip on tie and stuff. I'm sure I'll need help with this one."
After a moment of thought, Preston adds "Wearing this one will hopefully be an entirely different experience."
-
Milton smiles. "Sir, from what I know about tuxedos, you are in for a very special treat. I am quite sure that this will have the effect you desire." The man helps you out of your clothes and carefully hangs them on a second suit rack near the bed. He shakes his head and motions to your socks and underwear, too, and does not appear to be the least bit concerned about whether or not you are embarrassed to be naked in front of him as he directs you to the shower in the attached bathroom. Your first impression is that the bathroom might be bigger than your living room. After Milton pushes a few buttons to expose hidden counters and another closet with stacks of exquisitely soft and comfortable towels and a robe, you know the bathroom is bigger than your living room. Your next thought is that this is a guest bathroom. The tub is huge and could easily seat two, and you note a number of jet nozzles along the sides and at each end. The water adjusts evenly to your desired temperature without a lot of monkeying about and you can make it as hot as you want. With a slightly guilty thought, you open the sliding glass door to check the wall next to the shower but find no slick notice of what the hot water ration is. It is easy to luxuriate under the hot water but Milton returns after a while to politely remind you that you do still need to dress for the evening.
The towel feels as luxurious as it looks and it is hard to put it down. You hang it on a rack that seems designed for that purpose and step back into the bedroom, where you see that Milton now has more than your tux laid out. He offers you underwear and a t-shirt that feel like heaven when you put them on. Underwear! There is something about the material used that gently feels like nothing you have ever had next to your skin before. The crappy tux you rented with Fisher did not come with these accessories, but what do you expect when the entire thing cost about thirty nuyen for the night? Milton motions for you to sit on a plush bench at the end of the bed and hands you socks that could have been made of silk. They could have been made of soy for all you know, but they feel great. He hands you your trousers and you slip them on and the feeling of fragging money hits you. Fragging tons of money. What does this woman need you for? What sort of drek are you getting into? She could have bought any number of men. Is she buying you, too? And if so, why? By the time you realize that you have no answers to these and about a hundred other questions running through your mind, you have a shirt on. Milton ties the cummerbund and bow tie on and even your jaded outlook has to agree that from the view you have in the huge mirror on the wall, these look much better than the clip-on variety. The only thing odd so far, well besides the entire thing, is that the cuffs have holes instead of buttons and Milton does nothing about them. Shrugging, you think that perhaps this is a new fashion style. After all, it has been like..................forever since you moved in this sort of circle. Still it looks damned odd and you ask Milton. "Yes sir. I believe that Miss Marisart wants to give you some special cufflinks for tonight so I have left the other set in the box from the tailor." He sits you down again and brings a box covered with leather to you, kneeling at your feet. The box has fancy snaps and opens to reveal a pair of shoes. Milton reverently sighs as he looks up. "Le Clerc, sir. Very nice choice." He carefully lifts out the shoes and uses a shoe horn to put them on for you. He nods and produces a small towel from somewhere to rub off any smudge he might have put on the brilliant gleam of the leather.
Finally done with the shoes, Milton has you stand and walks around you, examining everything with a fine eye. He pulls a brush from some inner pocket and carefully cleans off any suspected lint or stray hair. Satisfied, he then takes a hair brush out, intending to use it on your hair, asking how you part it. He appears completely unsurprised when you have the hair fix itself. After one final check he pronounces you ready and opens the door for you. The woman standing next to Monique in the living room is easily the most beautiful you have seen in a long time. You are looking at the back of a long, floor-length gown in a shade of green that has to have been created especially to accent Tanya's red tresses. The back of the sleeveless gown is open all the way to her waist, exposing a large amount of flawless, evenly tanned skin. As she turns, the view only gets better. Her smile could light the room and drags your eyes from her chest, where they been headed. Something about her own eyes keeps your attention, even though part of your brain is telling you that the dress has a deep vee that goes to her waist in the front as well as the back. That small part of your brain is wondering just how the thing stays on and manages to cover and expose her breasts all at the same time. Her hips sway provocatively as she move with a special grace towards you. A string of green stones sits around her neck with one dropping down into her cleavage on a short chain. She is wearing a bracelet and earrings that match the necklace. Gone is the happy-go-lucky gamer; here is a cultured and beautiful woman. Your brain filters her walk as if in slow motion as she approaches you. She has a small box open in her left hand. "Peter, you look amazing. That tux suits you well. I have these cufflinks I would like to let you wear with it. I know that some were sent over by the tailor, but I was hoping that you would consider wearing these tonight?" Forcing yourself to look into the box, you see a set of metallic cufflinks, each with a large blue stone and several white stones settled around it. She removes them form the box one at a time and puts them in the holes on your sleeves. Standing back she puts her hands together and admires the overall effect. "Perfect. Just perfect. You look very nice, Peter."
-
Once dressed he asks Milton to let the ladies know he'll be out in a minute. Once alone he carefully removes his jacket and pulls up his sleeve so he can access his smuggling compartment, and pull out taser and lockpick set. He finds the hidden pocket under the right armpit of the tux for the taser, and above the heel of one shoe for the lockpick. Neither one was truly quick access, but it would do.
Then he left his room, and saw Tanya.
" .... "
* Gamma: I should not trust the rationality of my thoughts right now.
* Oleg: Damn witch, how does she, she, .... keep that dress on.
* Monkey: This is the life!
"Uh, cufflinks, umm, sure?". Where did one put one's eyes when dealing with a woman dressed like that?
A client, no less?
That dress....
Then having the cufflinks put on. The sensual overload while the cufflinks were being fastened threatened to overwhelm him. He was used to stimulating his mind, but tended to neglect physical pleasures much of the time. This it left him feeling all topsy-turvy.
Finally he gasps " Sorry, do we have a few minutes still? I think I need to acclimatize, not used to these altitudes. And this is probably crass to ask, but is there any chance of a soycaff or even coffee? I don't think I'm caffeinated enough for this..."
-
Tanya gives you another smile from less than two feet away. From here it is easy to smell a subtle odor of.........jasmine? It totally suits her and is not enough to be cloying. But it is fragging nice on her.
*Coleman - Her body and her smile might be weaponized. They are having a dangerous affect on us.
*Monkey - Let your eyes feast on her. Maybe she is on the menu
*Coleman - See? A dangerous effect. Feeling.......trapped. Might be an ambush.
Almost by magic, a cup of steaming coffee is in your hand. Turning to look, you see that Monique has changed as well, but her obviously very attractive and quite sexy gown is muted when near her mistress. She smiles and says, "Five minuets, Mister Preston. After that you can acclimatize in the auto." Tanya hands the small box to Monique and turns to pick up her purse from the couch and your heart almost stops. She straightens and comes goes over to Milton, who is standing near the door. "Thank you, Milton, you have done an excellent job. I do so appreciate it."
"It is my pleasure, Miss Marisart." With that, the man nods to you and........and does he actually give you a wink? Then he leaves the suite. Tanya waits for you to finish your coffee, not pushing you at all. She walks over to look out of the huge picture window at the ocean beyond. The hotel has positioned underwater lights to illuminate various parts of the seabed, allowing viewers to catch a glimpse of the sealife out there. You finish your coffee and Monique makes a noise, causing Tanya to turn. She smiles and moves back to you. "Sorry. I just love the view from here. It is always moving and always changing. I know that some of it is illusionary, but it is still an amazing view, don't you agree? Shall we go?" She slips her hand into your arm and allows you to escort her to the door. Monique bids both of you farewell, saying that everything will be ready by the time you are back.
The elevator ride is short and silent and the girl on your arm feels very nice. Very nice, indeed.
-
For the thousandth, maybe ten-thousandth, time Preston curls around a cup of hot caff before heading off into a high-stakes situation. Sometimes it has been an important "Star-Troopers: Orion" match, other times trying to collar a bounty. A few times it was to kill someone in cold blood. This time it is the opera with Lady Tanya Marisart.
* Coleman: There could be traditional dangers to consider, but will I recognize the more subtle dangers?
Fragging LADY Tanya Marisart. Who could change in the blink of an eye, from .... well it hadn't been the blink of an eye, just he'd been off showering and dressing, so subjectively it had seemed fast.
* Gamma: I was putting on my costume while she was putting on hers.
Oh.
Yah. He was trying to do something subtle, she was doing something much more noticeable -- but the idea was the same. Like wearing a tux to a dive bar. Give people an outside to look at, let them fill in their own story, never look deeper.
He should have caught on more quickly, But FRAG she was good at it. When he told Sonya about the evening he'd have to make his failure apparent, give her a chance to chide him for being oblivious, for being a guy overlooking women's tricks. That would be good, could downplay the luxury a bit -- let her have some vicarious thrill at how the rich lived, without rubbing in what he'd enjoyed and she hadn't. She'd have loved that shower. Maybe sometime they could spend a night or two in a luxury hotel that might have something close, let her luxuriate in all that hot water and options?
Oh, right, they weren't together anymore. He couldn't take her anywhere.
He took a deep breath, finished his coffee. His brain seemed to be back in his body now.
He carefully set the cup aside, inspected himself to make sure he hadn't dripped, then stood up. It was show time.
=========================
The elevator ride was short and silent. Tanya felt good on his arm: agile, clever, a professional in her own way. He maybe couldn't fully trust her--she could still be scamming him --but he could trust in her competence, he was sure of that now. It felt good to have something close to a partner by his side. Spirits he missed that, more than he'd realized.
As they arrived at their floor he could feel her subtly shift, changing from riding with him to facing the outside. A side glance took in her beauty, but also how she expertly presented herself.
* Gamma: This sort of social manipulation isn't something I'm very good at. I could learn a lot from observing her.
* Monkey: I could spend a LOT of time studying her! Like the view from her side right now....
* Coleman: I can't afford that distraction, I need to keeping an eye on our perimeter. I'm not geared up to take out threats, so need to be ready to escape or seek cover.
Preston braces himself, and starts scanning for matrix entities running silent.
-
The private elevator opens to an expansive lobby of marbled floors and columns. The overall motif is the ocean and the large paintings around the room fit it well. Several small conversation areas have been created by an artful placement of couches and chairs. You can hear the click of Tanya's heels as you walk across the lobby. You detect several devices running silent on several people in the large room. Two are large men in the uniforms of the hotel security and three others on guests or visitors. As you pass a huge sweeping stairway to the second floor you are met by a man whose name tag identifies him as "Branson - Assistant Manager". He comes to walk with you for a few feet. "All is prepared for your guests, Lady Marisart They will be shown directly to your suite. Thank you so much for using the hotel services for your needs."
Tanya gives the man a warm smile. "Thank you, Rupert. I know that I can always count on you to make things easy for me. It is much appreciated."
The man bows and falls away in your wake. You observe a number of people staring in your direction as you walk, both guests and hotel staff. Tanya whispers, "Don't worry. You will get used to them staring at you soon enough. Doubtless they are all wondering who you are and your picture will be plastered in the gossip rags by morning. One of the perks." She laughs softly as you head to the door, where two uniformed men open the huge glass doors to let you out into the evening air. An immense limousine is parked at the curb and the driver is standing at the already open door. Tanya takes you up to the man and stops. "How are you Alphonse? Sophia doing well and that boy of yours?"
The man bows to her and says, "Good evening Lady Marisart. Yes, doing well, all of us. Thank you very much for asking. Roger scored quite well in his first year and is looking forward to the second. He will be coming out to visit us next month and we would be glad to have you out for some of Sophia's chicken and dumplings."
"You know the exact bribe. Monique?"
"Absolutely invited as well," The man takes a close look at you. Tanya turns and says, "Alphonse, this is Peter. Peter, Alphonse. Alphonse is the best driver in the world."
The man laughs. "Her Ladyship does exaggerate a bit. But I will get you there."
Tanya motions for you to enter the car then hesitates at the door. It almost seems as if she takes a step back and away. Alphonse leans close and whispers something to her and she smiles and nods before climbing into the expansive rear seat. The driver shuts the door and you are cocooned in luxury. The comfortable, genuine leather seats seem to form to fit your body. Tanya presses a small button to expose a well stocked mini-frig. "Please make yourself at home. Would you mind getting me a Dr Pepper, please? There are controls for the surround sound system just to your right. There is a wide range of music to select from. Please choose something you like as I would like to know more about you. I know that you play games but not much else."
-
Once in the car Preston relaxes a bit --from all that he's seen he's quite confident that he is currently in one of the safter spots in the entire city. Things will open up again once they reach the opera, but for now all he has to worry about is his client.
* Oleg: It would help if she acted more like a client, and less like ... that
* Monkey: She's a lot more interesting than most of our clients!
* Gamma: Sonya started as a client.
* Monkey: Clients can become more than clients -- ook-ook!
* Coleman: I need to ignore the the attention bait and focus on the underlying.
The comment about music comes as a welcome distraction from his thoughts.
* Gamma: Jazz and hot-sim were welcome distractions too.
* Monkey: I can stop looking at her any time I want, really! I just don't want to ...
Although it still takes him a moment to quiet those thoughts and focus on his answer.
"I could give you a canned answer, backed up by passing familiarity and perhaps quick matrix searches. With this face I'd think perhaps light jazz, like Minelli Stevens or the Half-Moon Jazz Orchestra -- and if anyone asks me tonight that is what I'll say. That sounds innocuous and mundane enough to bore most people off the topic, I'd think."
"But since you are my client, I'll be honest: I never really developed my own tastes in music. Long and not overly interesting story, but I've spent most of my life listening to what other people like. Maybe I have defective artistic appreciation, because while I enjoy a lot of it, I haven't formed those strong identifications with particular artists or genres that some people have. There are times I've felt jealous of people who have certain music that helps them deal with particular emotions, or grounds them, or whatever, but it just has never had that impact on me."
* Gamma: At the age where statistically people form the strongest bond with music, I was exploring hot sim, which has a much stronger emotional impact. This may have prevented me from forming those strong emotional connections.
"Maybe worth mentioning is that I've simmed recordings of people who love music, and that can be a pretty intense experience. So I actually do know that I don't have the same emotional response that at least some people do. Anyway, the opera could be interesting in that there is story as well as music, and I can appreciate the way in which the music tells the story, the performers manage to both deliver music and tell story, and so forth."
"All of that said, I'd love to put on a performance of the operetta we are going to see tonight. I half listened to it this morning as I was getting ready, but I'd like to hear how it sounds with this high end system. I know we can't listen to the whole thing, but it will help attune my ears so I can get more out of the performance."
post 20
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For Mercy
Tanya smiles as you explain about the music. Nodding, she does something and the opening bars of the operetta come through the system. There is a soft click and Alphons'e cultured voice comes through an intercom. "Lady Marisart, I have just been informed of a traffic slowdown on our route. We will still be early if I keep going. Would you like to review the two alternate routes? I do not believe that they will get us there any faster."
Tanya smiles, "Then let's stay the course, Alphonse. Thank you." Turning to you, she says, "Well, you may have a few more minutes to listen to the music than you thought you would." She sips at the soft drink you hand her and settle back into her seat, eyes closed as she listens. Her left hand is waving in time to the music, matching the tempo. It is as if she has heard this several times before. Looking at the woman across from you, it is difficult to maintain a completely rational distance from her. You try to bring Sonya to mind and that helps for a bit, but the truth is that Sonya is not with you any more and seems to be very willing to maintain a "lets be friends" distance. Perhaps she realizes better than you how destructive you are to each other. Certainly the woman in the limo with you has not made any indication that she is interested in anything other than the job she has hired you for, but at the same time some of her words have been.....................interesting, depending on how you take them. While playing the games, she had been so easy to talk to, so down to earth and just nice. Well, nice in a very rich sort of way. But now. But now your attention is focused on her again. The rhythmic rise and fall or her chest suggests that she is relaxed and listening to the music. With her eyes closed you can look and what you see would make many a SIM starlet jealous. She has an almost perfect figure, and by the way her breasts move they are real, not implants. When she crosses her legs the slit in the side of the gown shows of a view of a thigh that does not know what fat really is. Given that you observed at dinner that she has a very healthy appetite, she must do some sort of exercise to keep her figure.
Alphonse's voice comes over the intercom again to inform you that the car is in the line for the Opera house and you have about two minutes to get ready. Tanya opens her eyes and thanks him for the update. Checking the chronometer in the limo, she looks at you and says, "Showtime. Are you ready, Peter?"
[/color]
-
As he listens to the music, it begins to sink in just how exposed he is going to be at the opera. In an act that he realizes might be massively insufficient for what could be happening to his anonymity shortly, he fires off a couple of quick messages over his internal commlink. This first goes to his shadow banker:
Geneva [Preston]: At your convenience tomorrow, I would appreciate an appointment to purchase a couple of thousand Y of gold Reals.
The second goes to the fixer he's bought fake ID's from in the past. The man often called Korean Gordo prefers payment in gold, but is worth the bother. This one he composes in Korean.
Mr. Kim [Preston]: Could I come see you tomorrow evening? I am looking for someone -- nobody special but they need a driver's license.
The euphemisms were not all that subtle, but should clearly enough indicate to the fixer that he was looking for a basic fake ID with an attached driver's license -- it didn't even need to match anything about him, just something he could broadcast when driving around town.
It wasn't much, but even that little bit made him feel a little better.
"Showtime. Are you ready, Peter?"
And suddenly his anxiety shot to the fore again.
* Coleman: The car provides protection and a host of tactical and strategic options. I think exiting it near any sort of crows is a bad idea. Perhaps we could find a quiet side entrance?
* Gamma: I did not apply enough disguise to fool advanced facial recognition software nor trained observers. Given that amount of attention that has been indicated, I may be tracked by appearance in the future. This would be very bad for my professional life. If I'd applied a beard it would have provided more distortion. To stay remotely anonymous on a job like this might require one of those modifiable facial implants.
* Oleg: What the hell am I doing? It isn't too late to say 'no' and insist I get dropped off elsewhere, and escape this whole zoo.
Preston gathered his courage, and responded "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose. Stepping out into all the likely attention is ... not a comfortable feeling. But so long as anyone aiming devices our way are wielding cameras, not guns, I guess I'll live." His attempt at a joke was pretty lame, but he is quietly pleased that he could even attempt humour, given that all of his thoughts are gibbering in fear about what a bad idea stepping outside the car is.
* Monkey: This is so thrilling!
Well, almost all of his thoughts were gibbering in fear. But he couldn't let that stop him, he'd come this far, he'd see it through.
"What is the procedure when we get out? As in, who exits which doors in which order, am I to take your arm, can I smash any drones that get too close? That last part was a joke. I think."
As he reaches for the car door, he muses out loud "For the next few minutes, we are going to BE the show, aren't we?"
-
Tanya smiles and the music shuts off. “Just be calm, Peter, and you will be fine, but I am afraid that YOU will be the show. Everyone we see will be wondering who you are and why I am with you. Frag all of them. Be confident. Put everyone else out of your mind then take a deep breath and focus on me, not the crowd. Tell yourself that you are with me because I wish to be with you. Then tell yourself that you know that you will be sharing my bed tonight and all of the other people will not. Answer questions or not, but I have been doing this for years and know that you need to be careful with lies, so tell as much of the truth as possible and simply avoid saying anything that might be a lie. Be mysterious instead.”
“Once we get to the entrance, someone outside will open the door. You will be first out of the car and will offer your hand to me. Move slightly to the side so that the cameras can get a good shot of me exiting the car. The rags always like to see a bit of leg and maybe more. Do not attack any of the drones that are certain to be floating about.."
She sits back in the seat so you can digest this. When the car stops, she puts a hand on your arm. “Believe it or not, I was serious, Peter. I am sure that by now you know that I am not an old-fashioned girl. I say what I want and mean what I say. So here it is, straight and simple; I like you and if you are interested at all, please consider spending the night with me. This is not in any way to be considered related to your employment. It is just me interested enough in you to want to have some great sex with you. I hope that gives you some confidence. If not, I am doing something all wrong.”
-
A furious flash of thoughts dart through Preston's mind, as usually overlapping and interacting as they cope with the latest twist.
* Coleman: She is dangerous, she is trying to distract me just as I step into danger!
* Monkey: I nailed it! Oh-boy-oh-boy-oh-boy!
* Gamma: I am not the sort of man who generally gets these offers from anyone, certainly not someone like her.
* Oleg: She doesn't play by the rules, I hate that.
* Gamma: I make a living by subverting the rules.
* Oleg: If others don't play by the rules, how can I subvert them?
* Coleman: I can't afford to be distracted by thinking about this right now.
* Oleg: If I were a better man I'd just dismiss this nonsense right now.
* Gamma: I don't think I can do that.
* Monkey: Monkey will take care of these thoughts, and not disturb me until later.
* Oleg: If 'later' ever gets here, hrmff.
Preston half smiled, hearing his uncle's aggravating 'hrmff' echoing through his thoughts. Then, mind as clear of distractions as he could manage, he locked the half-smile into place as best he could. The door opened, he stepped out and slightly to one side, then quickly turned to proffer a hand to Tanya.
Completely unrelated to the current situation, the thought comes to him "I forgot the cookies I made in my car, I never did give them to Tanya. Maybe there will be an opportunity later."
-
Tanya slides to the door and takes your hand as she steps out of the limo. You keep your smile on but cannot help wondering how she can show so much leg without showing so much more. It must be an acquired talent. She steps out into a small crowd of triderazzi, who ask her lots of silly questions, for which she has no answers other than that she is here for the opera. She slides her arm into yours and allows you to escort her past the people and up the broad stairs to the entrance to the Seattle Opera House. Doormen are holding the doors open for you as you arrive at the top stair, greeting Tanya by name. There is a crowd of opera goers in the huge lobby and some come over to greet Tanya. You see your friend approach. Her diminutive form is stuffed into a very nice gown, even if the vibrant colors seem a bit out of place. She must have spent hours putting her face paint on. While Tanya seems occupied with some man you think you recognize, but cannot quite place, Radiant Shadow comes up to you.
She gives you a playful punch and says, "So, big guy. Doing all right, it seems. Nice suit, by the way. Gisseppi's? Good choice. So, what is the scoop here? You sounded a bit concerned, but you know I got your back. Your new friend is not a customer, but I would like her to be one. Maybe you could, you know.........see if she plays around and maybe shift her business my way?"
-
Quietly Preston asks "You got a commlink I can ping you the story at?"
Once he has that he sends a quick summary of the situation.
RadiantShadow [Preston] On the face of it, she's rich enough to be eccentric, and is making me jump through hoops to see if I'm suitable for some unspecified job in the future -- but paying well for said hoop jumping. Or maybe she needs a fall guy sometime soon and I seem like a good candidate. She almost has me thinking that the former is actually possible, but I'm still ready for the latter. Or it could be something else entirely that I just don't have enough information to even think of. I'm way out of my depth on this one.
Not to stand there silently for too long, he goes back to speaking quietly "I'm not sure that her tastes in recreation run your way -- so far I've mostly seen games, both matrix and erotic -- but I will try and bring it up. I also trust you to charm at least a few people here or at the party and make new connections. Hell, you charmed Fisher and I out of turning you in for a bounty, once we had you locked up on en route for delivery; I'm sure you can convince some socialites that you'd liven up their next party or gloomy afternoon."
"And good eye about the tux. A few dozen grades above what I was wearing the first time that we met. Hopefully no chainsaws will be involved this time."
Which gets his mind on the likely difference in security levels between that incident and this one, and and he takes a look around to try and spot the security here. Always good to know what the local version of the constabulary looks like.
-
You get a response almost immediately. >>Preston. Radiant Shadow. I have done some checking since we last talked and she seems to be exactly what she claims to be. Rich and eccentric, and a noble title in England. Her father was a Viscount over there but he died in a car crash that also killed her mother and two older brothers. She was pretty fragged up in the accident and it took a year or so to get her put back together. Strange laws in England say a man has to inherit a title unless there are none left in the family. They dug around and found some fourth or fifth cousin to take the job. So she is kicked out of the castle and most of the lands and money. But her mother was very rich and had been smart enough to keep a bunch of it separate from the estate so the kid got it. A year or so later comes some whomping huge scandal involving a boyfriend who died on top of and inside the underage daughter of some cabinet minister, or was it daughters? Not sure, but the scandal went viral after the tridarazzi got some really nice pics of the naked underage girls. It all caused the cousin, who is now the Viscount, a ton of trouble, even though your girl was not even in town for the party. Just being tied to it was enough to get her quietly exiled and she ended up here. It seems like she is on the up and up, but you might still be the fall guy for something. Her record here is spotless for any sort of criminal activity, but her personal life is a zoo. She has been romantically linked to half the influential people in Seattle and she does not seem too picky about whether they are married or not, and seems to have as many women as lovers as men. To her credit, though, she does not acknowledge or refute the claims so a good bit of that could be false She probably has a ton of baggage with her, though, so be careful, even if she sounds legit.<<
She nods and whispers back. “Yeah. I am pretty sure that she is not into any sort of drugs herself. I found no evidence at all, but who is completely clean? Huh? I am planning on meeting some of the people at the party and taking advantage of it if I can. Frag, I probably already know most of them professionally anyway. You might be amazed at how the rich and famous like to spend their time. But in any case, I am here mostly for you, tonight. You called and I came running. Long time since that night with the chainsaw., kid. You’ve made it up several times. Shame what happened to Fisher, though. He was a dick and a half, but he did not deserve to go like that. Or at least not how the rumors say he went.”
Looking around you can see several men in the dress uniform of the KE, including one man Tanya is talking to now. She does not appear to notice, but the man cannot seem to keep his eyes focused above her chest, even when talking directly to her. There are some off-duty KE here as added security, but most of the security seems to be provided by men and women dressed in the jackets of the opera house.
-
After finishing his conversation with Radiant Shadow, Preston really thought about ducking into the washroom for a bit to get out of the crowd. With a mental sigh he decided that really was not in keeping with his role for the evening. He couldn't quite bring himself to re-enter the press around Tanya just yet however. How did she put up with it?
In the crowd and chaos it would be so easy to pull so many things. Sure there was security around, but the opera's security wouldn't know all the KE and vice-versa, plus there was a mix of extra security either layed on by the opera or brought by attendees. For that matter the opera didn't have a constant enough flow of shows that they would have much permanent security -- for all that their uniforms proclaimed their association with the opera house he'd wager that they were provided by an outside contractor, and as such that there would be a certain rotation in their members. In short, there was no way that all this security would operate together seamlessly.
If he were here to abduct Tanya he'd likely want to fake a uniform almost like that of the opera security but slightly different, slightly fancier, then spoof that he was someone senior and special, call it a special agent. That would have a high probability of giving enough credibility to buy the couple of minutes it took to call her out of sight of the crowd, subdue her, and cart her out through a side entrance. Perhaps have a battered box stashed somewhere, that could look like it was used for props or catering or something. Hmmm, caterers, probably a degree of rotation there too. Possibly take out a bartender or something? Yes, best bet would be for him to look like service staff, to excuse a cart of boxes, and Fisher to be the special agent.
Except there was no Fisher anymore. Damn that still hurt when he stubbed his thoughts on that. And he wasn't here scouting out any normal job, he was here to, well, something. On trial?
Anyway, now that he'd scouted out the easiest ways to pull something he might as well as take a couple of minutes to look for anyone matching the description -- at the very least take a good look at the servers and any security that looked unique. Then he'd make himself attend her Ladyship. Not that being with her was unpleasant -- rather too much the opposite -- but that crowd, the way they played their social games. He suppressed a shudder, and launched himself into the crowd to run his circuit before returning to his closer orbit around his star for the night.
-
Your thoughts about the security at the opera house are certainly borne out by your quick walk-through of the grand lobby. Most of the off-duty KE officers seem relegated to crowd control outside of the building, but there are several different security firms represented inside the building. You must be correct about the opera house staffing, because many of those wearing the uniforms look like they were put into them at the last minute as they do not fit well. You even see one man in a slightly fancier jacket and wearing a name tag that identifies him as the “Special Supervisor”. Additionally, there are a number of people with private security, most of whom are well dressed. Two men standing near the man talking to Tanya are clearly professionals as their heads do not stop moving as they continuously evaluate and update potential threats. The caterers for the bar and snack tables all seem to come from the same outfit, but of course, you are right to think that some might be last minute replacements for someone calling in sick or delayed. You uncomfortably feel eyes upon you, but cannot identify from where. Certainly, Fisher would have been so much better at this. He seemed to just fit in as if he belonged in whatever environment he was in. But Fisher is gone and now you are Fisher. What would you do if someone made a play on Tanya Marisart? What is she to you? A client? Certainly. An unknown that is setting you up for something? Possibly. One of the prettiest women in the room right now, despite the number of trid starlets on the arms of older gentleman? Most definitely.
You feel a light touch on your arm and turn to see Tanya looking into your eyes and smiling that smile that almost makes you forget that she might just be the enemy. “Here you are, Peter. I have someone very important to me that I would like you to meet. Please?” She slips her arm inside yours and glides across the floor to where an older man is standing with a beautiful young woman at least a few decades younger than he is on his arm. He is surrounded by a knot of people trying to get and hold his attention and you quickly identify two of the men as probable private security. Tanya excuses herself to several people and walks up to give him a kiss on each cheek before doing the same with the woman. The man returns the kisses but his eyes are on you and they are sharp eyes indeed, despite his apparent age. The woman also looks at you, and her gaze is just as appraising. Sir Gregory looks you up and down but turns his attention away from you as Tanya steps back. Tanya motions to you and says, “Lord Gregory Murdoch, Lady Bridgette Murdoch, may I present Peter Preston? Peter, this is my uncle, Sir Gregory Murdoch and his wife Bridgette.” The man grips your hand in a firm handshake and the woman offers her hand in a slightly less firm manner. A quick matrix search reveals that this man controls nearly all media outlets in England and many in the UCAS. A side note lists Bridgette as his wife of ten years and that she had been his personal assistant for several years before that. Tanya continues, “I did not know you were in Seattle, Uncle. You should have called me. I would have thrown a party. In fact I am giving one tonight at my place after the opera. Why don’t you and Bridgette come?”
The man responds warmly, “That is why I did not call you. You and your damnable parties. Still, I may make an exception. Do we have time, Bridgette, dear?”
The young woman on his arm shakes her head as her eyes focus on something invisible to you, but right in front of her. “Not unless you cancel on the governor tonight, dear. But we are available tomorrow night before we fly out We do need to be at the airport by nine.”
Murdoch looks at the girl warmly and thanks her. “It looks like I can meet you for dinner tomorrow, dear. Say sixish?”
Tanya laughs, “Say half fivish so I can spend some time with you. I will break out the Glenlivet 21.”
“Done. You always know how to get me around your finger. Half fivish.” He looks up at you. “Nice to meet you Peter. Perhaps we will meet again.”
The pair brush cheeks again with Tanya, who takes your arm and leads you to the grand stairway. You see Radiant Shadow walking through the crowd to fall in at your side as you climb to the next floor.
-
Preston fights off a surge of panic at being looked at carefully by people who are that perceptive, but relaxes a little when it turns out that they won't be around for long. Then he marvels at the deft interplay between Tanya and her Uncle. He sincerely hopes these are not the people he needs to investigate!
As they finally start moving towards the staircase his internal voices go through a whirlwind exchange, arriving at a rare consensus: I can't put it off any more, I simply have to get better at dealing with people.
I wonder if you can find lessons on that in the matrix?
* Gamma: I am joking about that, right?
-
Tanya picks up the side of her gown with her free hand and lets you escort her up the wide stairway to the next floor. A uniformed matronly type of woman greets her at the top of the stairs. “Good evening, Lady Marisart. Your box is ready for you and your guests. You will let me know if you need anything, won’t you?”
Tanya nods, “Of course Mabel. But you always have everything so perfect. I am quite certain this time will be no different.”
The woman smiles and leads you down a hallway of plush carpet to an open door with a dark curtain drawn across it. She pushes the curtain aside and the three of you enter a spacious box elevated about forty feet from the lower audience level. There is a small table with several chairs about it and a row of luxury high-backed chairs at the balcony that will give you a magnificent view of the stage. And just about everything and everyone else in the house. The lights over the main seating area are brightly lit, but those in the box less so for a bit of privacy. Each of you has a name tag on the table done up in some fancy calligraphy style, along with a set of opera glasses and a tray of mints and chocolates. An ice bucket to one side holds a bottle of what is probably champagne and there are two more bottles in an ice tray near the door. Tanya had earlier given the roses to someone and they have magically appeared on a smaller table off to the side of the box. Tanya turns to Mabel and says, “This is amazing, Mabel. Many thanks.” The woman almost melts, but bows and leaves the room instead.
As Mabel steps out, a uniformed man enters and pours a glass of the champagne for each of you before withdrawing with a thank you from Tanya. A few minutes are spent in pleasantries before Tanya picks up her set of glasses and goes to stand just behind the loge seats. Radiant Shadow takes the opportunity to raise a glass to you and whisper, “Thanks again for having me invited. If this is having your back, I can do it anytime.”
Tanya turns and motions for you to come forward with your glasses. She carefully demonstrates how they should be held and there are some soft giggles as you struggle with it a bit before getting it right. “I used to hate these things when I was young. I looked for any excuse to not go to the opera with mum, usually something to do with getting myself grounded. I was a foolish and willful child. I hope that you enjoy the performance. Both of you. I am pleased that you could be my guests tonight.”
The dwarf smiles and nods her head as she finishes some of the chocolates on her tray. “This is heaven, Lady Marisart.”
“Tanya, please. And yes, it is nearly so. You should try the mints with the red dot on top.”
]You hear nothing but satisfied sounds and a low moan of appreciation from Radiant Shadow as she eats from the tray. Tanya reaches over and touches a button on your glasses and softly says, “Row forty from the front, end seat, wearing white. Distinguished, with graying hair. That is your target, Peter. Remember that this is a test, but not one I wish you to fail at. You should be able to identify him and find out a lot about him, but then I would like to know if there is anything not in the public arena that you can find out. You are on the clock and have one week from tomorrow noon to get me any information. Remember, you are not to get found out, and even if you are, you are to keep me from being involved. The time between now and noon tomorrow is a bonus time for you to plan your approach. Are you still up to this, Peter?” The view through the glasses is amazing and you realize that they must be augmented in some fashion.
After a short pause she adds, “I owed you two thousand just for showing up. That has now been paid to you.”
-
For the first minute or so in the box, Preston stays quite quiet externally, while internally he let's Monkey express the sheer pleasure of such luxury. Once he finds himself repeating thoughts of what one could probably do in chairs that luxurious looking he shuts down that train of thought in order to consider other factors.
* Gamma: Champagne, but no 'caff. These people have different priorities than I do.
* Coleman: Nice sight lines from here. Of course nice sight lines to here, too. I wonder how solid the front of the box is? Or even the backs of the chairs?
* Oleg: A lot of money was poured in here to make listening to a bunch of nancy-pants gargling at the top of their lungs seem like a privilege.
* Gamma: This is something I should consider in the future, people might go into situations they would not otherwise accept if they feel that it shows that they are special or privileged. I'm just not good at selling anything as special or privileged.
* Monkey: Maybe I need to hang around this sort of place more often in case some of it rubs off. And if it doesn't work at first, I'll just need more luxury until it does!
* Coleman: Actually this is a bit of a trap, fleeing the box only leads into the corridor, and I wouldn't know what was out there. Nice way to scoop someone up.
* Monkey: Yah, give them laxatives, then when they have to make a run for it grab them!
* Coleman: it would be better in that case to grab them after they have been to the washroom, so the escape vehicle didn't pick up a tell-tale odour.
* Monkey: Oh, oh, I know! Catch them in the washroom, with their pants down! The look on their face would be hilarious!
* Coleman: Perhaps I should investigate the washroom cubicles, see how secure they are?
Preston pinches the bridge of his nose. These are all my thoughts, how is that I don't recognize where some of the weirdness comes from?
Then fortunately Tanya interrupts him to point out the target.
Preston fiddles with the glasses, sweeping the stage and the crowd, only pausing briefly on the target for now. Neutrally and quietly he asks "Do I get a name, or do I need to figure that out on my own?" A little louder he adds "Thank you for the lesson on the glasses -- and for everything, really." He adds a slight nod to emphasize the 'everything' to help make it clear that this includes the just transferred payment. He carries on "These are quite different from the binoculars I've used in the past--you are right that does make them a bit tricky to get used to. Same basic principles, of course, but you are right, they will take a bit of getting used to in order to both watch the stage and enjoy people watching fully." After a moment he adds "I assume that some of the point of this layout is to encourage people watching?"
-
Tanya leans close and whispers, "I will not tell you anything more than pointing him out. The rest is up to you to determine. And yes, the layout encourages watching. Both the stage and also to see who is in the boxes. It is very much a social thing and many people are here only to see and be seen. I think that you will find several vision enhancements on your glasses, Peter. There are about ten minutes yet until the curtain goes up, so get some practice if you like." At this distance, the smell of jasmine is easily detected. Something causes you to turn your head slightly and you find her looking at you from only a few inches distance. Her eyes are amazing and her smile is full of promise. She does not drop her gaze, but................is she actually leaning even closer?
There is a soft knock at the door to the box and Mabel enters after Tanya recovers and calls out for her to do so. The woman is carrying a large tray with two pots, several smaller containers, and three cups on it. Here you go, Lady Marisart." She points out three different creamers and the sugar bowl, but does not pour out. Tanya turns and walks to the table to pour herself a cup of tea, asking if you would like some coffee. "I am told that it is very good here. I would not really know as I only drink coffee in the morning and so have never had theirs. Do you take it black? If not, I will let you decide which creamer to use."
-
* Oleg: Don't these damn people know anything about moderation? Perfume, champagne, real coffee, special binoculars just for the opera, it's fragging excess I tell you. If this was VR I'd jack out in disgust!
* Monkey: Oh no I wouldn't! This is A-MAZ-ING! What's next? I can't wait to find out!
* Gamma: History says I would not actually jack out. At least not from hot sim.
* Absorbing this many sensations is putting me at far less than peak performance. I should be using this time to gather further intelligence, but instead I'm being overwhelmed.
* Monkey: Isn't it great? I could get used to this. And I haven't even had the champagne yet! Which first, coffee or champagen? Maybe one in each hand? I wonder if anyone has ever combined them?
* Gamma: I am getting over-stimulated. I should limit how much additional caffeine I have now.
Preston limits himself to one cup of black coffee, for now. He did just have one before coming, a cup topped up a couple of times at the tailors, a bunch of soycaff at home earlier -- really not all that much, but he is feeling like he treading near the edge of his nerves all the same. But he couldn't not have real coffee when it is offered! So good that he will certainly have more later.
* Monkey: Ah, that's the stuff! Keep this coming and I'm good to stay up for as long as Tanya can tolerate!
* Gamma: Physiologically, staying 'up' that long is unlikely. But staying away can certainly be managed with enough of this excellent coffee.
Coffee drained, he applies himself to learning the opera glasses, and thereby not having to look at Tanya. He can still smell her of course, but he can mostly block that out. Mostly.
He fiddles with the various adjustments and settings, making sure to spend a good portion of the time looking at the curtain and orchestra, but periodically looking around the audience as well. He makes sure to look at his target periodically, paying attention not only to him but anyone he appears to be sitting with, and even those sitting adjacent to the man's party. Never know when a secondary source might be available, if he stays alert.
* Monkey: coffee keeps me alert!!!!! I should have more.
Trying to block out the lure of the coffee, Preston starts assembling a mental list of things to do in this investigation: Get the gentleman's name as well as those of any of his companions, kick off a surface matrix search to provide some context, get in more observation of habits and possible weaknesses -- especially vices--of the target and any companions. Get that fake ID tomorrow. Follow up on his pay from the Carlin Street job to see if he can afford to get an ID spoofing chip in his car and a morphing license place. One way or another do a drive by of the targets residence to get a feel for it, and do a more in depth matrix examination. Poke gently at the security to see if there are clear weaknesses.....
His thoughts were interrupted by catching some motion from his target. Oh, he was just standing up to let some latecomers get by -- still, it was interesting to note that he leaned on his left arm as he stood up -- poor balance, sore leg, or just coincidence? Well, more observations to come.
And then finally the lights dimmed. Good, the dimness would be restful. Not that he could afford to relax much -- perhaps one more coffee first.
-
Tanya finishes her tea and takes a glass of champagne to her seat with her, unfolding her glasses and looking about at the crowd.
The magnification ability of your glasses is quite good, and probably far better than it needs to be for the opera. There are buttons for magnification, low-light, and thermographic viewing You notice that your target is involved in a conversation with a woman nearly half his age sitting next to him and that he seems to have a hard time keeping his eyes off what the silver-hued evening gown almost completely fails to conceal. The woman's chest is quite large and from your angle you can see it even better than the man can.
* Monkey Bring up that magnification ability to get a closer look. They might be a clue.
* Coleman They are a distraction. We cannot allow such a distraction right now.
* Gamma Why are these women showing off their boobs?
* Monkey Who cares why? I say let 'em.
Besides the perceived issue with his side, you notice that he is missing the pinkie finger on his right hand at the first knuckle. He leans forward on a fancy walking stick and you catch a sparkle from the ring finger of each hand. Closer inspection indicates that the one on his left seems to be a wedding band.
The lights dim and Tanya settles into her seat, with RS on her right and you to her left. There are enough fancy seats here to seat twelve in two rows if she wants to support that many guests here. She expertly flips open her glasses and watches the first half of the show, apparently paying close attention to the operetta. On occasion you can see her lips moving in sync to the actor's voices, as if she is very familiar with the lines.
-
Preston had to admit that the opera was amusing, and the singers were clearly skilled and the whole thing slickly done. Heck, the music was even catchy, and he knew that snatches of some of those songs were going to haunt him for days to come. But music without a solid bass beat, preferably from some troll on drums or orc on a reinforced bass, wasn't exactly what he called music. It was like those fancy litte bites they served at a couple of fancier parties he'd been at once, that had interesting flavour but weren't like a good soyburger or bowl of noodles that fuelled you up for the hours to come.
And so it was that, despite the fast paced and slickly performed spectacle, his attention to the performance became ... erratic. He scanned the audience periodically, but most of them were simply watching the show, or at least faking it reasonably well. He wondered how many were actually watching an urban brawl game in AR while sitting there and staring at the stage? Which made him think -- he quickly searched for reviews of the operetta and streams from other attending and ran some simple programs on them to pull out frequently used names and phrases.
Of course he checked on his target the younger woman accompanying him. Who knew when he might see something revealing in some way?
But over time, he found attention kept drifting to Tanya. "About tonight, was she serious?" He wondered. "Of course I couldn't ..."
* Monkey: Of course I could! Hottie like that you bet I could.
He glanced at her yet again. With that dress, one could trail a finger down her side ... "No, I could do things with her tonight, but of course I shouldn't..."
* Monkey: Of course I should! It would be rude to say no, don'tcha know!
* Gamma: I am not all that experienced, I could be disapointing.
* Monkey: It's sex, what is to disapoint, it starts at good and goes up from there.
* Oleg: A woman being so forward, it isn't natural
* Monkey: Using your money and position to enjoy life how you like, what isn't natural about that?
That was what he accounted for in trying to figure Tanya out. By the sound of it, there wasn't a lot that she had to do. She could spend all day with her own harem of young men, or playing video games, or, well, pretty much anything vaguely within reason. But she wanted him for something -- and obviously as more than a bed mate for the night. Something challenging enough that she wanted him to prove his fitness for the job -- or possibly the observation was the real job, really it didn't matter -- but she wouldn't be bothering with all of this unless she wanted to do it, and from what he'd seen she liked to enjoy herself. What would she want, that she would also enjoy, that would require someone with his skills?
He flashed through a lot of possibilities, but none of them made sense for the persona she projected. "I think the most likely thing is that she has another side, or aspect, or persona, that she hides."
He looked at her again, wondering "What are you hiding, Lady Marisart?"
* Monkey: Not the side of her breast -- look, you can see how the swell starts right there, before it goes up under the dress ...
He realized that he had two investigation jobs to do, one paid for by Tanya, and one for free investigating Tanya.
* Monkey: and I should absolutely start investigating her tonight!
Then the last song of the first act ended, and Tanya turned toward him, smiling. A smile that was devastating ... and maybe knowing?
"Like what you've seen so far?" she asked. Was that a wink?
He stammered, as he rapidly accessed his implanted link to plunder what it had parsed. "Uh, Lisa Mackinley is quite delightful as Mabel. Casting M'binda Johnson, a caribean dwarf, as Major-General Stanley is an interesting statement by the director. I, uh, .... " he trailed off as he saw the silent laugh on Tanya's face. He swallowed, and admitted "Yes, yes I do."
-
Tanya leans forward a bit and parts of her that should remain concealed in polite company threaten to reveal themselves. Almost. She puts a hand on your leg and whispers into your ear. “Good, because I wore this specifically for you and I would hate to think you did not appreciate it.” With another killer smile, she turns and stands to get herself another glass of champagne before retaking her seat. Radiant Shadow excuses herself to use the ladies’ room and Tanya turns her head to you. “I have noticed that you are indeed examining the target and his surroundings. There is a feature of your glasses that might not be immediately obvious.” She leans sideways and the dress once again manages to keep her breast concealed. Taking your glasses she points to a button innocuously labeled as “F/X”. “This device is a camera as well as everything else it does. This button here will take good stills for download to your commlink.”
Turning her torso to you, she gets a mischievous grin on her face and says, “Would you care to kiss me? I would like to know if you are a good kisser. I am pretty sure you are, but there is a question in my mind.”
-
February 2063, Edmonton, Athabaskan Council
"You could kiss me if you want to." Juy-Lin's body language was even more hesitant than her words.
Michael was torn. On the one hand he'd kissed plenty of VR programs, but never a living person, and he wanted to see what it was like. On the other hand she didn't seem any too sure, he still half suspected that she was seeing him mostly to get help with her programming class, and if any of the boys from the Korean reserve saw them kissing, there were good odds that they'd beat the crap out of him.
Plus there was the fact that this wasn't ever going to go anywhere, longterm. The Korean reserve was in a population crunch, and a lot of people predicted that like the Mandarin Chinese reserve a decade ago, they were going to have to fold-- but while the Mandarin's grudgingly merged with the Cantonese, the Koreans didn't have anyone they could easily merge with, and lacking real SINs they couldn't emigrate out of the Athabaskan Council, either. All of which meant that there was no way they'd let a healthy young woman stay together with someone from the Ukrainian reserve. Especially not with how they looked down on the Ukrainians as yokel farmers and mechanics.
Which actually made it kind of funny that Juy-Lin was looking to him for help with a computers class.
He glanced sidelong at her as he gave her hand a squeeze through their mitts. At first all he saw was the side of her hood, then she turned toward him and he saw her big dark eyes -- the best feature in a somewhat plain face. She had her scarf pulled down, but unless you were looking at her straight on, you'd never know who she was, or who he was either. With their parka hoods up, if they kissed, all anyone would see was two people, standing hood to hood. They might guess they were kissing, but they wouldn't know who they were. So it should be safe.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that." Disappointment was painted all over her eyes as she pulled her scarf back up over her mouth. Michael wanted to protest "I was just thinking, I wasn't saying 'no,' but that would mean admitting that he'd had to think it through, and maybe explain why he had to think it through, and .... the moment was gone.
"I'm sorry, next time."
But two days later he heard that her family was moving to the even smaller Korean reserve in Fairbanks, and they never went walking again.
2075, Seattle
* Monkey: Don't blow it, don't blow it, don't blow it!
* Gamma: History says hesitation is equivalent to a negative response.
"I'm... probably not a good kisser. I guess I never asked anyone. I mean, I've kissed, and I like it, but it was ... " It had almost always been while buzzing on something a lot stronger than caffeine, body and mind firing five seconds into the future the whole time. "It was good, I think? But I don't really"
His words were stopped by a finger on his lips. There was a laughing question in Tanya's eyes.
* Seize the moment!
Who was that?
But he was already leaning toward Tanya, and then their lips brushed, and his thoughts were seared away by the sudden intensity of the sensation.
-
Tanya breaks from the kiss and gives you a questioning look as she bobs her shoulders a couple of times while pursing her lips and running her tongue over them. “Hmmmm. Nice. I would say that you are a good kisser.” She reaches up and puts a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to kiss you again. If the first one was exciting, this one is even better, especially after her soft tongue pushes into your mouth. The voices inside your head go silent for a bit then explode in a cacophony of noise, glee, and dire warnings. She lets you come up for air and steps back, panting just a bit herself. Radiant Shadow takes that moment to return to the box, returning to her seat after taking a good, long look at you. Soon the lights dim again, signaling the end of the intermission and Tanya smiles at you as she takes her seat for the second half.
-
Preston looks behind Tanya’s back at where Radiant Shadow is still standing, and gives a trace of a shrug, trying to project “I don’t know what is happening here either.”
* Gamma: This sort of thing doesn't happen to me.
* Monkey: Don't look a gift kiss in the mouth!
* Coleman: Tactially, this still seems like it could be a way to lull me into a state of reduced alertness.
* Oleg: Is the woman trying be seen as loose?
* Monkey: Seriously, Don't. Look. A. Gift. Kiss.
* She wanted to, I cooperated to please her. Sometimes it isn't all about me.
"Who are you" Preston urgently thought at himself.
It had only been in the last couple of years that he'd pulled those thought streams out to their voices and names. When Sonya had suggested that he needed to learn to hear when it was 'the monky on your back' talking, she hadn't expected him to implement that suggestion quite so literally. The others had happened naturally enough as he learned to identify Monkey -- and he could trace where in his life each of them came from.
But never had he had something like this happen. He chose to give his thoughts their own space and identity, they didn't put themselves forward. And where did this voice come from? This was driving him crazy!
Or ... was it a sign that he was going crazy? Had he cracked under the pressure of kicking his addictions?
Or was the voice not actually his? Could someone be messing with his thoughts?
The 'Boojum' had controlled his actions, and that had been a terrible experience: he'd never forget the horror of shoving the mini-grenade in his mouth and thumbing the activation button. It had been tear gas, so he survived with only scarred and wheezy lungs instead of being torn apart horribly. Still that moment would still haunt his nightmares if it wasn't that the folowing moment had n't featured him helplessly wretching while Fisher jerkily opened the gate to the hellhounds that killed him.
This was nothing like that had been. But Preston had heard that some mages were more subtle, controlling what someone thought rather than controlling their movements. Or more subtle yet they just gave them suggestions, almost like a hypnotist. He wasn't sure how true all of that was, it could just be fear-mongering, but he knew that some forms of mind magic were real.
But why would anyone .... unless Tanya was a mage? He hadn't seen any signs, but wasn't that the case with the really good ones? How could he know that she wasn't? None of the rumours he'd seen about her suggested any magic, and surely with such a public figure, it would be known?
He was stressing out, he could feel the clammy armpits, the elevated heartrate, soon Tanya would notice.
"Sorry" he whispered "I have to go to the washroom. Too much coffee, should have gone during intermission, but ...."
-
You step through the blackout curtain and open the door to the hallway. There is a young man in the uniform of the opera house sitting in a chair against the wall. He is dozing when you pass by him and barely manages to stand up before you are past and down the hall towards the large door that lead to the stairway to the lobby. Pushing on the doors, you pass into the main mezzanine waiting area. Several uniformed men and women are standing in a small group near the stairs and all turn to watch you as you approach. After you ask the location of the nearest restroom, you continue on down to the main lobby. You think one of the women is trying to get your attention, but your mind is clouded by the various thoughts that are rampaging through it right now and you do not hear what is said to you before you enter the restroom.
If you have ever seen a more ornate bathroom than this you cannot remember where or when. Marble floors and walls with some sort of granite countertops. The sinks have gold fixtures. Fragging gold fixtures. A man is standing near the counter and he smiles at you as you enter, asking if he can assist you in any way. As if you need any fragging help to take a piss. Standing at the urinal, you relieve some of the pressure from the volume of caf, both real and soy, that you have consumed today already. After washing your hands in the fancy sink, you leave the room and re-enter the lobby. A bright sign over the stairway tells you that the doors to the auditorium are locked until the next major scenery change, which ought to be in about twenty minutes. One of the ushers comes forward and asks if you are alright. He shows you to one of the very comfortable couches and offers to get you some coffee, if you like.
-
Preston clamps down on his voices and his desires, and replies to the man "Just some water, please" while thinking "At least here I can probably trust the water."
Once the man returns with the water, Preston finally comes to grips with his revving thoughts.
"If she is a mage, the coverage of her would mention it if was reasonable detectable. I think some can hide their gift, but for such a public person, and then to use it publically? No, it seems unlikely -- or else she is SO good that there is little I can do to protect myself from her, so might as well assume the more likely case that she is in fact mundane."
After a moment more contemplation he eases off his mental clampdown to let Gamma do its job of observing him
* Gamma: Attractive women who are not shy are often described as bewitching. It could be that I'm discovering the truth in that.
* Gamma: I'm not at my most rational, buffeted by so many new faces, situations, and offers.
* Gamma: I'm not used to interacting so closely and constantly with someone. Normally I have long stretches on my own to think things through. It could be that my social fitness is not good, like someone who has not been active being quickly exhausted from not overly intense but continual activity.
Yah, that all sounded about right. So what to do about it? Not a lot he could do about the evening as a whole, but he had this window of time which he should take advantage of to decompress.
He sets a mental alarm, then slips into AR and skims reviews of the latest cyberdecks. Not that he can afford one, but dreaming about them is soothing to his thoughts. By the time one of the ushers signals him that it is time to return to the box he's feeling at least somewhat more settled.
-
An usher does in fact come to you just as your internal chronometer chimes. He leans over to take the glass of water and tells you that you have a three minute window to use the doors to return to the auditorium. Rising, you follow the young man towards the doors when you Radiant Shadow coming through them. She comes over to you and takes your arm, moving away from the hallway to a slightly more secluded spot. She looks closely at you and softly says, "Are you alright, kid? You look a bit pale and unsteady. If I were a young man and standing near her, I might look that way, too. Hell, having heard about her exploits with other women, I might feel that way if she was paying attention to me. So, are you in need of something to give you an edge? More confidence? I have some prime Jazz right here if you do. Frag, she might even pay for it if you ask nicely and............."
She is interrupted by a rather cold tone. "No, she won't. Maybe I should have explained things a bit better, Peter. I do not use drugs to get high, and I expect that you will stay clean while we are working together. If that is a problem, I will pay you whatever your standard rate is for an evening and look for someone else to work with. I caution you that this position is not negotiable and your decision is needed right now. Ms Shadow, if Peter rejects my offer, please consider yourself not welcome at my home tonight. If he decides to continue employment with me, then by all means feel welcome. I know full well that there are a number of people on my guest list that partake of your wares, and I would think it nearly impossible to prevent some of them from contacting you tonight. I ask that you please find an excuse to not be able to provide anything at the party, but you may set up something for once you have left the hotel."
She looks between the two of you and adds, "We have missed the opportunity to return to the box and there will be no more scenery changes before the end, so we will have to wait here so that I can take my flowers backstage after the curtain. But I would like an answer at this time, Peter. Are you in or out?"
-
"Are you alright, kid? You look a bit pale and unsteady. If I were a young man and standing near her, I might look that way, too. Hell, having heard about her exploits with other women, I might feel that way if she was paying attention to me. So, are you in need of something to give you an edge? More confidence? I have some prime Jazz right here if you do."
* Monkey: I haven't had Jazz in soooo loooonnnng, just one hit should be OK, right?
* Gamma: I still have nightmares from things I did while hopped up on Jazz.
"Frag, she might even pay for it if you ask nicely and............."
She is interrupted by a rather cold tone. "No, she won't. Maybe I should have explained things a bit better, Peter. I do not use drugs to get high, and I expect that you will stay clean while we are working together. If that is a problem, I will pay you whatever your standard rate is for an evening and look for someone else to work with. I caution you that this position is not negotiable and your decision is needed right now. Ms Shadow, if Peter rejects my offer, please consider yourself not welcome at my home tonight. If he decides to continue employment with me, then by all means feel welcome. I know full well that there are a number of people on my guest list that partake of your wares, and I would think it nearly impossible to prevent some of them from contacting you tonight. I ask that you please find an excuse to not be able to provide anything at the party, but you may set up something for once you have left the hotel."
She looks between the two of you and adds, "We have missed the opportunity to return to the box and there will be no more scenery changes before the end, so we will have to wait here so that I can take my flowers backstage after the curtain. But I would like an answer at this time, Peter. Are you in or out?"
* Monkey: I hate her!
* Oleg: She has strange morals, for a hussy.
* Coleman: Nice pattern of escalating emotion going here. If I continue it, it might hit a stage of conflict. Fisher could use that to step in, but being part of that pattern it is not clear how I could exploit such a volatile situation. Tanya could have set up this pattern deliberately, or she could be showing a topic on which she is emotional.
* Gamma: My breathing is getting very rapid and starting to get rough. I did not bring a puffer with me.
"We missed the chance to go back in? I didn't want -- why did everyone -- I --"
* Remember, it isn't all about me.
"Just, just give me a moment." Preston forces himself to slow his breathing before his scarred lungs and bronchials start spasming. He takes the few breaths to compose his thoughts, figure out how to return this to the realm of conversation he understands. First up, polite framing.
These are things he's studied and practiced. He takes a step back so that he forms a triangle with the two women, instead of being between them. Politeness says to address all people in a conversation at once, rather turning your back on one to address another. Giving way on a small point, even if you have to create it as a straw man, can help defuse growing conflict. "I am sorry that my earlier exit has now resulted in all of us being locked out. I did not mean to cause such drama, nor to cause any of us to miss the latter part of the show. I didn't realize when I first left that I wouldn't be able to return --this was a piece of etiquette that I'd overlooked. I'm sorry that my mistake has led to this."
There, that had been polite, and neutral. Now to address a substantive point, but don't take on a loaded statement directly.Turning slightly to Tanya to indicate that this is primarily addressed to her, he says "I would like to know if there are further employment conditions that you haven't stated as of yet, before we continue. To be clear I was intending to turn down that offer -- I did spend some time addicted to Jazz and it is not an experience I would like to repeat. Certainly I wouldn't risk it due to social stress. That said, it is a tool that I might use again if I thought that it could make a difference in a life or death situation. I don't anticipate any such situations in this job, but having options constrained is never welcome."
Dare I say the next part?
* Negotiating boundaries is part of good relationships
* Gamma: My history with negotiations is very bad. Making discussions smooth I've mostly figure out, but negotiating introduces an element of conflict that I handle poorly.
* Monkey: No-no-no-no! Pretty woman who is willing to sleep with us. I bet she has sheets of silk, or better! And real coffee in the morning. Make things good with her!
* Oleg: After the pig incident, Fisher always did say to leave the talking to him.
The memory of Fisher's reaction about the pigs almost leads Preson to smile -- 'If he'd only been willing to transport them, I still think we could have made our money back and then some.' He doesn't quite smile, but if helps take a bit of the sting out of the next part. Imply a balance of blame, such that both sides can retreat with face saved.
* Monkey: Nooooooooo!
"I'm not going to tell you how to handle my contract--it isn't my place, and I'm terrible at that sort of things anyway. You have the money, that let's you decide. But I think from my perspective I would like a clear understanding of all of your rules. And I think I need to step back from any further personal entanglements in order to keep a clearer, more professional, head. Trying to deal with both is leading me to do both badly."
post 30
-
Tanya’s eyes and expression are cold and dark and she opens her mouth to say something then shuts it. Her face becomes more thoughtful and then she smiles, an expression that is very much shared with her eyes. She turns to Radiant Shadow and says, “Would it be too much trouble if I took Peter to talk with him in private?” The other woman shakes her head and Tanya offers you her arm, leading you out the main doors to the street curb to a small nook in the wall that has a padded bench to sit on and an awning to protect them from the slight spit of rain that seems to want to come down. She sits and motions for you to do the same.
“I must apologize to you, Peter. I am afraid that I sometimes fall victim to myself and my inbred snobbery. It is very easy to be the sort of person to use my money and title to get my way all the time. I try to be more real than many of my contemporaries, but the trap is easy to fall into and I apparently did just that with you and I could not be sorrier.” She sighs. “Listen, story time, if you are alright with that. I know what it is like to be addicted to drugs. When I was eighteen, I was in a brutal auto accident that took the lives of my parents and brothers and almost killed me. I was bloody well messed up and should have died. Frag, I wanted to die. My uncle forced me to live. Lots of surgeries later I was ready to shoot him for convincing me. The pain was fragging excruciating and the doctors gave me meds for this pain and different meds that pain and then even more meds for all the pain and then some “friends”, and I use that term lightly, introduced me to Bliss and I thought I was in heaven.”
“I had just hired Monique as a replacement for the fourth or fifth personal maid since the accident and she saw what was happening to me and tried to get me off of it. I fired her about twenty times in the space of the first half-year but she did not leave. Bloody stubborn Frenchwoman. Anyway, she called Uncle and he dropped what he was doing and flew in from some meeting he was having in Singapore. They kidnapped me and took me to his estate in Scotland. My uncle, my aunt, and my maid pulled me out of my life and forced me to change. I hated all three of them and told them so many times, saying the nastiest things imaginable. I said them so many times that they should have tossed me in the moat and watched me drown. They didn’t. I survived, thanks to them. My own parents would have sent me off to some boarding school for wayward girls again, as if that had ever worked on me when I was a teenager, or some halfway house, or perhaps even a nunnery somewhere. My aunt and uncle are more my parents than my parents ever were and Monique is the best friend ever.”
“So I know addictions, Peter. I applaud you so very much if you have kicked your demons. I reacted poorly when I overheard Radiant Shadow offer you some Jazz. I jumped to a conclusion that was not well conceived or considered. That was very wrong of me and I hope that you can forgive me for that.”
She looks closely at you and you can see that there are some tears on her cheeks that she quickly wipes away. She places a hand on your arm and you can almost feel the heat coming from her touch. “I am impressed by the way you stood up to me; I like that. So let me be a bit more honest with you. A lot more honest. I steal things. I love the entire concept of theft, from finding the item to snooping out the security to actually pulling off the heist to selling the item. I do it for the challenge, for the love, and the excitement.” She smiles again. “And the money helps. I cannot maintain my standard of living on what my tight assed cousin, the fragging 16th bloody Earl of Leicester sees fit to give me as an allowance. So stealing expensive things pays the bills. And do I have a score. I have been contracted to steal an object that is nearly priceless but has a price to someone. A very, very high price. The object is extremely well guarded and the entire thing could be bloody dangerous. And bloody exciting. Part of my demand to my client is that I am not given a timeline, which allows me to make this perfect. I am usually a solo player who contracts out for specialized assistance, but I think that it is time that I take on a partner, a protégé; someone to bounce ideas off other than Monique. You, if you are interested. Are you interested?”
“And if you are interested in being a partner and not an employee, could I maybe talk you into reviewing your decision about personal issues? Would you be willing to see me as a woman who wants to share her body with you? To give me a chance?”
-
OOC1: I know the drug is "Jazz" not "the Jazz." It is just a verbal quirk of Preston's
OOC2: Sorry about another wall of text post. Just kind of heavy stuff going on, from a character point of view.
* Oleg: not so high and mighty after all. Maybe she isn't so bad.
* Monkey: Say yes! I don't care about the details, just say yes!
* Coleman: Not as big of a risk as it seemed on the surface. She can deny, or play it off as a joke, and would be believed over me every time.
"That ... makes a lot more sense than what I had up until now. And that is a lot to process."
* Gamma: This is an awkward pause.
Confession for a confession, that was the technique Fisher had drilled into him. Probably he should have some stock fake confessions handy, but he'd have to settle for something real. Since they were on the topic of drugs anyway ... "Oddly, Radiant Shadow was one of the people who helped me get off of the Jazz. It helps that she mostly deals only in the purest grades, that give more kick for less dosage and less side effects -- a little easier to deal with. But once my cause for starting to take it was gone, she also helped me walk the ladder down through lesser stimulants, until I stalled at 'caff. I mean, she wasn't the one who put up with my rants and occasional screams, begging and occasional threats, or who helped me focus on my goal to get past all of that. But still I don't know if I would have done it without her support and belief that I should get past my addiction to the Jazz. She's a weird sort of dealer, doesn't like seeing customers implode."
After a moment of looking at blood splatters on the wall of his memory, he adds "I was riding it pretty close to that implosion point, she could probably tell. Was going way too fast to observe myself or realize what I was really thinking. It's an incredible rush to be moving and thinking that fast, but without those checks ..." Preston shakes his head ruefully, and sums up that period with "Now I get to go over some of those moments in my nightmares. Maybe it was needful at the time, maybe it wasn't, but either way the psychic debt takes a long time to pay off."
There, that felt fair. No need to go into the hot sim addiction that was another part of how I got off Jazz. Not that I'm planning on getting back into it, either -- but that is another avenue I don't need her blocking off.
As for the rest, where to even start? Thief? Lover? Employee? Partner?
* Oleg: Doesn't she ever take a breather? I haven't even gotten past my job interview job yet!
There, that was his angle. "It sounds like you love a thrill, a sense of danger? I guess I have a bit of that, but also it just makes me feel sick to my stomach. That was part of why the Jazz was so appealing, it helped me feel more in control because I was ahead of the action most of the time, and that left me feeling less sick. 'Till the Jazz wore off, of course, and it was all worse until the next hit, but I guess you understand that sort of cycle."
"But my point is that having everything happen at once isn't the good kind of stress for me. Stress can stimulate higher performance, or it can interfere with smooth functioning by distracting from the real priorities." He can hear Sonya's psychology hectoring ring through his head -- how many of these words are hers, with a shift of pronoun? "Having all these choices, all these opportunities, I'm guessing that would be exciting for you? But for me it is more just overwhelming, too many decisions with not enough data to support them, too many possible interactions to analyze ... sure things get complicated when you are in the middle of doing things, but survival has a nice way of pushing distractions aside until later."
"Where I'm trying to go with all of this is that I think your offers are really exciting, but could we hold off on them until after this week? Let me do my best on the job you've already given me, then we'll know more where we are, and stuff .... "
* Monkey: No, no I just didn't. I blew it, then she let it be un-blown, then I did this? I'm outraged!
"Although, I wouldn't say no to another kiss or two, since that is already part of things."
* Monkey: A kiss? SILK SHEETS AND WAKING UP TO REAL COFFEE AND A REAL WOMAN AND I SETTLE FOR A KISS?
* Delayed gratification is a key part of emotional intelligence
* Monkey: Pbpbpbpbpbpbpbpbbpb to delayed gratification!
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Tanya sits quietly next to you on the bench as she digests what you have said. She shrugs a couple of times as she considers how she wants to respond. Finally, she looks at you and nods. “Alright, I respect your decision. I have to say I am a bit disappointed, but a kiss? Sure.”
She hikes her gown a bit, exposing a tremendous amount of bare thigh then tosses a leg across you to sit on your lap, facing you. She puts her arms around your neck and draws your head towards her, meeting your lips with hers. To say this is just a kiss would be completely wrong. This is a kiss that starts hot and begins to burn into you, leaving your insides all melted and warm. The kind of kiss that tugs at the soul and seems to last forever, and the only people in the world are you and whoever is on the end of the other set of lips. You feel the fullness of her taught breasts as she leans into you and your body reacts predictably. Some kisses can be described as being able to knock your socks off, but this one could easily knock one's clothes off. She moves a bit on your lap, which brings about a totally understandable reaction and is audibly panting when she finally breaks the kiss, leaning forward to whisper into your ear. “Let me know if you change your mind. From what I am feeling here, I am pretty sure that part of you is quite willing to take a chance on the excitement I can bring to your life. You should perhaps consider that some things in life are worth the stress they bring. Do not be nervous about the sex or the job as both are yours if you are willing to grab for them. Consider this; out of all the men and women here, it is you and only you that I wish to sleep with tonight. You can back away if you like, but.................” She gives your earlobe a gentle nip and sits up, still straddling you. She stands, again showing an expanse of leg, and carefully rearranges her dress before offering her arm for you to escort her back inside.
-
As Preston takes Tanya's arm, he gives it a bit of a squeeze-his senses fired up from that kiss to note every little thing about her body. But her arm doesn't squeeze, not the the way that flesh would, even toned and fit flesh.
* Oleg: Women shouldn't defile their bodies with such ware.
* Gamma: Her right arm, my left arm.
* Monkey: We match when face to face, like when kissing. See, we should do more of that!
He stops their progress, and suggests "I know it is traditional for a man to give his left arm to a lady, but perhaps I should be terribly gauche and switch sides? That way we'd each have our, ah, 'better' arm free. Probably not an issue here and now, but perhaps just a good habit to be in?"
* Coleman: I like the tactical options that this could present. There are moves that could be worked out, even.
From Mercy:
Tanya smiles. “You should realize by now that I am not strictly a traditional sort of woman.” She glides behind you and takes your other arm and lets you escort her back into the building. While climbing the steps, she leans over and whispers, “Although, I do rather think that you would find that I am equally proficient with either arm at certain……activities.” She laughs a bit and adds, “You do look cute when you blush like that.”
Radian Shadow is sitting on one of the benches and nods at you, smiling back when Tanya smiles at her. Tanya gently pulls you in her direction, where she holds out a hand and says, “It seems that I owe you an apology as well. I jumped to an erroneous conclusion based on incomplete information. I hope that you can be gracious enough to allow me to say that I am sorry.”
Radiant Shadow smiles and says, “It is easy enough to make a mistake and just as easy to forgive one, Lady Marisart.”
The three of you have to wait in the lobby for almost fifteen minutes before the doors are opened once again. Mabel comes through the door with Tanya’s flowers and hands them to her. After several words are exchanged between the two, Tanya leads you both through a separate, guarded door where access is restricted by a uniformed man. The hallway beyond leads to the backstage area and Tanya moves among the small crowd of performers and appreciative audience members with a practiced ease, eventually coming up to the lead actress, whom she addresses by name and introduces you to her. Tanya gives her the flowers, which are quickly passed off to a waiting assistant to be put with the others she has received. After several minutes of mingling, Tanya makes excuses and leaves after several rounds of cheek bussing with other audience members, some of whom she indicates will be at the party later.
Preston hangs back, hoping to observe more than be observed. And frankly uncertain about the etiquette in this unusual environment and preferring not to take chances.
He takes particular note of whether his target, or the target's female companion, are about.
From Mercy
Actually, you do see both the man and his companion at the backstage gathering. The graying man is talking to several of the actors from the performance, but from your angle it is easy to see that he spends most of his time looking the chests of the women he is speaking to. He is balancing a bit on his fancy walking stick and you notice that he has a slight limp when he moves between from person to person. His date is left standing pretty much alone against a wall and is not looking particularly happy about the situation.
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* Coleman: She's isolated and her support isn't paying attention. Good time to make a move.
* Monkey: I'd like to make that chest move!
* Coleman: Tanya may be more perceptive than our target, so oggling would be a bad idea.
* Oleg: Get implants like that, then wear a dress like that, you better expect to get oggled.
* Gamma: I should be able to control my actions independent of perceived signals from others.
* I could just be nice to her, instead of leering at her like everyone other man does.
* Coleman: That might put her off balance, make her more vulnerable, or it could put her on the defensive because it is so unusual.
Preston gritted his teeth. He had to figure out why he was getting a new voice, and who or what it represented for him. So far it seemed to be offering sound social advice, as best he could tell. This was part of why it was so disturbing -- he couldn't think of any aspect of himself that had developed sound social instincts, so where could this be coming from?
But back to the issue at hand, there was a clear opening here. If he were Fisher he'd shift his walk and body language, come up with a distinctive voice for the interaction, then casually spin her a completely made up story that would engage her sympathies and interests. If he were Tanya he'd probably go over, greet her familiarly, engage her in small talk that somehow seemed to know all about her, and for all he knew probably flirt outrageously with her.
But he wasn't those people. He was good at not being noticed, or at being ever so proper so as not to give offense, but not at manipulating people. Well, perhaps that would be good enough for now ... although it was too bad that he hadn't brought a stealth tag with him, planting one on her now might save a lot of work later. Where would he plant it, given that dress?
* Gamma: I'm stalling.
Preston did allow himself one last mental character check 'Slightly geeky, slightly awkward, but wearing top-of-the-line, no, ABOVE-the-line clothes, AND here with Lady Tanya, so more confident than he's used to. Peter's no player, won't last in this scene long, but is enjoying the moment and trying not to seem too star-struck.' Not much of a stretch at all, really. 'He should give an obvious compliment, because not that suave, but a compliment is expected. He'll assume shared feeling, which could be a bit gauche so can let her feel more worldly and sophisticated than him, but at the same time is a classic way to build a bridge so is appropriate for the situation. '
With the mental part of his disguise in place, Preston did his best to saunter his way around the outside of the room to where his target's companion was loitering. As he got close he commanded his voice to something quiet, but clear enough to carry a short distance through the low hubbub.
"I am so happy that I'm not the only abandoned companion here. They really should provide a couch for us, or maybe a bar? That's a thought, next time I should smuggle in a flask! My name is Peter by the way; although if you've managed to smuggle in anything intoxicating -- besides your smile -- and you are willing to share, you could just call me 'forever in your debt'." Preston tries for a smile, which he expects will probably come out more like an awkward grimace -- but that is in character, so he doesn't mind much.
-
The woman you are approaching seems a bit bored with everything going on and is apparently staring at part of the wall just past where her escort is standing and chatting up a gorgeous actress. You think that she is probably in her late twenties or maybe even early thirties and stands about five foot six inches tall. Her butt is nicely turned as are her legs, but her chest is the rather obvious attraction and it is easy to see why men might be attracted to her. Her hair is set to frame her rather nice face, which is generously made up. She is wearing only a set of drop earrings in a color of blue that sets off the dress she is wearing.
She looks up at you as you come close and seems surprised when you stop to talk to her. She smiles at you and her smile really is nice. Laughing softly, she nods and says, “You have that so right, Peter. Please call me Amanda. And abandoned we seem to be. A couch would be nice and a bar divine. Unfortunately there is not enough room in this gown to smuggle my panties in here, much less anything like a flask.. I wish I had some, because it certainly looks like I will need to have someone in my debt before long. See that girl there? The one from the opera? Well, my guess is that she will be the new me in about a week, maybe less.” She looks sad as she pauses before continuing, “Oh, I can read the signs and realized about a month ago that it was coming to an end. I can remember when I was the new whoever had my place on his arm before me and how he acted when he was talking to me. I had heard that he runs through mistresses like water, but I was hoping to last a bit longer, you know. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be looking for a large-chested soon-to-be-ex mistress of a rich lawyer, would you? I might be getting a little weathered at the edges, but I can still rock your world in bed.”
-
Preston does his best to look Amanda in the face, not the bosom, although it is certainly a challenge.
* Monkey: I totally think she could hide a flask in there. Maybe I should check that she isn't holding out on me?
* Gamma: I don't even like spirits that much.
* Monkey: Sometimes I take myself far too literally!
* Oleg: Aside from the obvious distractions, she's dressed pretty classy for a mistress. I think he is wearing more jewelry than she is."
"I'm sorry to say, Amanda, that I have my doubts about lasting beyond the night myself. I didn't realize that going out for a pee break meant you couldn't come back in until scenery change, at which point Tanya came out to see what was wrong, and we ended up not making it back in time so I made her miss the end. I'm pretty sure rule one of this gig is supposed to be 'Don't cause a bother.'"
"Sadly, before this came up I was seriously considering if I should go back to my college job of slinging soycaff, so my budget isn't stretching to a mistress, no matter how talented." He fingers his tux and muses "I think I get to keep this lovely thing, but not the cuff-links. Bit of a shame --better re-sale value in jewelry. I guess that is why it is the traditional gift for mistresses? I certainly hope you received more than you are wearing, especially since he's so decked out."
* Gamma: that was not subtle.
* Oleg: Of course not, I'm not some smooth-talking Frenchie! Everything I said was true; give me truth over subtlety every day!
* Monkey: I hope I didn't insult her so much that she takes her lovely breasts away.
* Coleman: the more important tactical question is whether it was obvious that I was digging for information about her patron.
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Amanda smiles. "Slinging soycaf, eh? Well, for me it was dancing on a pole and taking my clothes off at "Bernie's Old Time Strip Club and Bar". I am probably going to go back there and get my job back. Pretty sure I still have a few good years before gravity makes me more of a joke than an attraction. But, seriously, Howard has been nice to me. I have some money saved up from what he has paid me and some new clothes. He has been a bit off with the jewelry, which is too bad. I had to buy the earrings myself. Just costume stuff, but they look nice, right." She pauses then looks up at you. "Hey, it's alright to look at them, Peter. Most men do and I would be wondering about you if you didn't. Here........." She turns slightly so that her back is mostly to the small crowd and does something to the dress, exposing her rather large chest for you in all its glory. After a few seconds to let you get a good ogle, she puts the dress back together and turns around again. "There, now you don't have to wonder what they look like. Bernie was sad to see me go, but he was right when he said that I would be back. I will try to milk Howard for what I can before he puts me on the curb. Say, you know that offer to get together is still open if you are interested? Even a soycaf slinger deserves good sex once in a while." She nods to where Tanya is talking to a small group of the actors. I"I have heard stories about her, but I don't put much stock in stories. Is she as hot in bed as the gossip feeds hint?"
-
"Is she as wild in bed as the tabloid rumours say? Hmmm, isn't rule 2 not to kiss and tell, unless told to? But what could I say?"
* Oleg: Ah, Howard, my target, likes common hussies.
* Monkey: There is nothing common about those! Am I sure I can't afford her?
* Gamma: I will be embarrased if Tanya observed that little display.
* Poor girl Doesn't hurt to be kind, but doesn't mean I have to get any more entangled with her.
* Coleman: She is no doubt stressed, falling back on what has been her winning strategy so far. That can be risky tactics; playing to your strengths is good, but being predictable isn't. I should pay attention to make sure I don't fall into this same trap.
* Gamma: Ahem!
* Coleman: Ah, right, I'm already monitoring for that.
* Gammma: If I'm forgetting who I already am, that would be cause for concern.
Preston attempts to laugh suavely but ends up with more of a cough. "Sorry, ah, I think you can look at her background, make speculations about what you would have spent your time learning if you grew up with that sort of money, and come to some reasonable guesses of what she is like. I can certainly say that she likes to get her way ... and speaking of which, I should probably go dance attendance and see what she wants now."
* Coleman: She could be a useful contact for this job, I should establish a way to re-establish contact.
* Monkey: Oh yes, I should definitely get in contact with her, preferably with no clothes in the way!
Preston had already been hatching plans on how he might accidentally meet his target's mistress 'by accident' within the next week, but if things could work out this easily, why not take a chance? Tomorrow was already looking busy, but he could offer the following day.
"But I'd love to know how things work out with you, and hey, maybe we could share some comfort? Never bad to have a friendly face to look forward to, so maybe we could set up a meeting for another time. I'd guess you might be at free ends quite a bit during regular business hours, so I was wondering if you'd like to meet up for a caff in a couple of days, while I'm still on the paying side of the counter?"
* Gamma: I just offered to meet up with another man's professional mistress. That was the sort of thing that Fisher kept me firmly away from.
* I'm learning. I could probably learn more from her.
That was a thought, she lived by the social dance as much as by her looks, by the sound of things. Could he hire her to train him on how to do better with people? Not that he shouldn't also find out about his target from her, and maybe a simple bout of matress fun would do him good?
-
Amanda looks at you for a moment then smiles. "You know? I think I would like that a lot. And it is nice of you to offer, but I am not starving yet; I can go Dutch if you like. There is a nice coffee bar down on 42nd Street. Vera's. Downtown district. Say noon on Friday, or is something better for you? Howard has meetings all day but he will want me at the apartment on the weekend. Give me a comm code and I will send you my private one in case something comes up." She looks you up and down and leans a bit closer as she whispers, "We can commiserate with each other about the sort of life we lead and why we do it and give sympathy to each other over our current bosses. And it might be really fun if something did come up, you know what I mean? And speaking of bosses, yours is on the way over."
Just then you notice Tanya approaching. She is smiling as she puts her arm through yours. "I am sorry that I left you, Peter, but I am glad that you are getting acquainted. Amanda. right? I do hope that you can excuse us. I would hate to be late to my own party and am in danger of doing just that. Monique will be furious and that means trouble. Besides, you are coming tonight, right?"
Amanda nods, clearly a bit surprised that Tanya is talking to her as a person. After some small talk, Tanya excuses the two of you and asks to be taken to the waiting limo. While walking at your side, she leans over to you. "Already working?"
-
"Of course. Seemed an opportunity to good to pass up. But it also occurred to me that there could be other things I could learn from someone like that. After all, she's professionally social, and that is my weak area. So maybe ...working, and working on some professional development."
"The only thing is that I'm reluctant to give her a comm-code I use regularly, Andi neglected to arrange a back-up link for today -- gross oversight on my part. I know we need to hurry back to the hotel, so I can't stop off and shop, but if I were to order one over the matrix, could I get it delivered to the hotel?"
I presume such services are available in 2075, for a premium?
post 34
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"Of course you can do that. Have it sent care of my name. And I am glad that you are making progress and am sure that you will find an opportunity to do more at the party. And I did not say so earlier, but please do not feel too badly about the opera. I pretty much know it by heart and this troupe is not the best I have seen, despite their supposed pedigree. It makes me wonder if they do as poorly with other operas."
The car is waiting at the entrance and glides forward as you and Tanya appear at the top of the steps. The chauffer is out and opening the passenger door by the you get to the curb. Again, you notice a slight hesitation on Tanya's part before she slides into the car. The driver confirms that the destination is the hotel and pulls the limo away from the opera house and into traffic.
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OOC: Moving thread back over to Dumpshock, due to the ongoing slowness here.
Find it at: http://forums.dumpshock.com/index.php?showtopic=41498