Log:Met Tet For Mankind

GM: Oz Players: Nevaeh Synopsis: The Ministry of Mankind has sterlized nearly an entire generation of the crescent rats known as 'orks'. But the orks walk with Gods, and the Gods are calling for flesh and blood to replace that which was culled from them. The one responsible must be brought in and killed, slow, in the 'manje loa', or 'wet feeding of the loa'. The Gods demand a sacrifice! WARNING. Some parts of this log have an erotic portion, albeit shortly. These have been notated before and after for those who prefer to skip it. You will not be missing too terribly much of the plot. Kez has offered 30K for the run, with Oz as the 'Johnson'. Oz will try to keep 8K for himself, on top of his own share. Contact Body Quick Strength Charisma Intelligence Willpower Reaction KP Race Corporate Headhunter 3 5 3 6 5 5 4 4 Elf Corp Headhunter: Etiquette 4 (Corp 8), Negotiation 6 (Bargain 8) Contact Body Quick Strength Charisma Intelligence Willpower Reaction KP Race Simsense Star 3 5 3 8 4 3 4 2 Elf Simsense Star: Etiquette 5 (Entertainment 7), Negotiation 2 (Bargain 4), Pistols 7 Contact Body Quick Strength Charisma Intelligence Willpower Reaction KP Race Corp Security 5 4 4 2 3 3 3 3 Human Corporate Security: Athletics 3, Clubs 3, Etiquette 2 (Corp 3),Pistols 4, SMG 3, (Unarmed Style) 4, Security Systems 3 Corp. Security: Boosted Reflexes 1, Headware Radio R3, Smartlink 2, Subvocal Microphone Init 3+2D6 Combat pull 5(3 w/security armor), karma 3 Gear: Light security 7/6, browning max-power, goggles w/ lowlight and thermo, medkit, keypass. Contact Body Quick Strength Charisma Intelligence Willpower Reaction KP Race Security Rigger 5 4 3 3 5 5 4 3 Dwarf Security Rigger: Car 5, Electronics 6 (Control Systems 8, Diagnostics 7, Security Systems 7), Gunnery 5, Launch Weapons 5, Pistols 3 Security Rigger: Datajack, Vehicle Control Rig 3, Cybereyes (Thermographics, Low Light, Flare Compensation) green-3/13/13/13/11/14 The call goes out! Quietly, this time. Whether by trix, by phone, by message or by note at a dead drop, word of a job has come sliding down the line. A small job, a tidy sum, but it's not exactly heavily advertised. The meet itself set for a place on the edge of CAS called 'Falstaff's'. Where else would Nevaeh be, half-past noon on a Monday, but the Dungeon. It's her first stop in the morning; if one defines morning as the first five hours after you drag ass out of bed, then it's pretty much her first stop every morning. Aside from the coffee bar, which brings in more customers during the day than the ratchet trog strippers do, the Dungeon is conveniently close to the Crank and it's equipped with a shower she can use without being groped by randoms. It's one of the perks to being a friendly acquaintance with Bill, the Dungeon's barkeep, and probably the most valuable. When Nevaeh comes out from the back, her eyes travel the room while her fingers take the last few pins from between her clenched teeth and slip them into her hair. By the time she reaches the bar, Bill looks ready to launch her purse into the incinerator. Instead, he waits until she sits and chucks it at her chest, rumbling, "I've been listening to that drek ringtone for fifteen minutes. Get out of my club." Not expecting a call, the elf, struck by curiosity and the 'had enough of your shit' tone in Bills voice, hastens to the exit; her fingers busily punch the symbols on her sliverphone as she scampers up the stairs. By the time she reaches the street, the message is cued and ready. As soon as she reaches the atmosphere, she claps the phone to one ear and a hand to the other, listening intently while trotting aimlessly away from the jarring club music that rises through the tunnel. It takes her about five minutes to grab her gear from her apartment and another five to find a gypsy. Due to noon-time traffic through the checkpoint, it takes an hour to get to Falstaffs, but she comes through the door looking more like a runner should and less like a hoodrat from the Mission. The message itself gave no explicits as to who or what the 'hoodrat' would be meeting - only that she was expected to be on time. Falstaff's itself is an aging establishment; It had some how skipped past the 'retro popular' style and sunk deep into 'greasy cigarette stained roof tiles easing their way towards delipidation'. The wait staff is worn and silently sour in their service, the chairs have little hard points where the springs are outmatching the padding, and the food/drink combo is.. Well, we'll just say you can usually keep it down if you're hungry. But it's cheap, and they don't ask too many questions. The old sourpuss who runs the register gives Nevaeh a single up-and-down look, moues grumpily, and nods towards the bench seats. Behind which is situated a 'privacy' door, with the phrase 'Employees Only' stamped on. And within here? Within here awaits an ork. Broken tusks, symmetric scaras down both sides of his face, and a wicked hook that gleams on the tabletop he's seated at beneath the single bulb of this 'break room slash closet'. Nevaeh drifts toward the bar, drops a name and upnods at the reply; she shoves away from the bar and ambles back a few steps while her arms swing lazily to her sides. Her hands hitch at her belt-line, thumbs hooked and elbows back, as her eyes sweep the room. When she spots the exit, she starts toward it, but her close observation of the room does not end until she's cracked the door and crossed the threshold. Once inside, Nevaeh draws a pause. A smile springs life on her previously blank expression. "Oz," she declares his name in a tone that conveys a mixture of surprise and amusement. Her hands drop and pass the door closed behind her back, "I thought you vacated the plex." The houngan flashes that sideways, broken toothed grin. "Ah? No, no, cerri. This is my home now. I was.." A thoughtful pause. "… working, mm? The gods do not rest, and I must heed the words." He leans back for a moment, the tip of that sharp, sharp hook briefly digging and catching on the table as he tilts his head. "This will be… more pleasant, I think, than I had expected, omae. I.." The grin becomes a bit more wicked. ".. Am your Johnson, ah? And not the type you find at work." The ork quietly pulls out a small datachip, and places it upon the table. "A dear friend of mine - ah, they who have money are always dear friends, yes? - has a man he would like to give to me. A man who has done very, very bad things, and .. in turn.. must have very, very bad things done to him. My friend, he would like you to get this man to me - while I get the very bad things ready for him. Are you still interested?" Nevaeh steps deeper into the room while dragging the hood of her jacket back from her head. She comes to a stop behind a pushed-in chair, directly across from where he's sat, and folds her arms lightly across the top while her body leans lazily into the back. "Sure," she says with a non-committal shrug. "I don't get vexed about the particulars, so long as the Johnson pays." Her lips quirk an amused smile as her gaze darts briskly down at the datachip; without reaching for it, she looks up at him with a slow blink of her eyelashes and inquires, "What very, very bad things did he do? The brute kind or the fiscal kind? And…" she hesitates, drawing a breath before completing her thought, " … is he a troll?" A flash of broken tusk again. "Human. Very much so." Comes the response, Oz lifting that hook to slowly rub the flat of his thumb along the barbed outer edge. Carefully, of course; It's sharp. "A little of both, cerri. He may have been a pleasant man once in his youth; Whatever he could have been is gone, ah? My friend pays for peace of mind." The left hand finally comes forward again, pushing the datachip a bit more. Nudging. "Locations, ah? And a timeline. He will not be in Denver for long; My friend does not want him to leave. But!" A finger lifted. "For my part, I need the man alive. I need his heart pumping." A flash of broken tusks that twist the ritualized carvings on his face. "For now." Nevaeh circles around the chair, swinging her arms in at her sides. She sinks a hip at the edge of the table, leans in and swipes the chip up with a sweep of her fingers. "Okay," she nods down at her purse while fishing out her bulky, generic brand pocsec. It works, but it ain't impressing anyone; once the pocsec is booted and the chip plugged, she begins scrolling through the data illuminated on the visual display. The visual displays reveals quite a bit more about the task; An image of the man himself, expensive suit, shaking hands with other humans. An image of the Bursnley hotel in Aztlantean, notes about a 'convention' occuring in one of the ballrooms. A private affair. No note about how many guests, only the information that it will be occuring in fourty eight hours, and is expected to run from 1800 hours until 2200 hours. Afterwards, the man is expected to be leaving by airflight in the next morning from the Burnsley hotel. The rest of the data is just various image-snap pics of the man, given name 'Jonathan Lorn'. Oz waits quietly while she checks, finally flashing those tusks again. "My friend, for your part in this.. offers twenty two thousand nuyen." The instant Nevaeh scans the intel regarding the 'convention at the Burnsley Hotel', the impetuous Warrens hoodrat breaks through; she catches it, but not before her head pops up and eyes level Oz with an incredulous look. In the next breath, she sighs, drops her head and forces her attention at the screen. It takes another half-minute before she can will herself to start reading again. "That isn't what I expected," Nevaeh says, as if her surprise wasn't tangible as a grenade blast in the room. She sits up slowly, hands propped at the tables edge, and swings an apologetic look his way, "How much do you know about this slag? Does he drink? Smoke? Do drugs of any kind? Gamble? Or is he a potentially an iron-will, believes in the system, shaikujin?" she asks, bumping a curt nod down at the datareader she'd set down. Once she expels the concerns most prominent in her mind, she follows it up with a soft spoken, "And how do I get in the convention?" A slow shrug. "If this man has a vice, I have not had a chance to find it. I did not peer at his soul, ah? Not yet." The broken tusked smile is a touch more wicked, but Oz seems unmoved for the moment. He then shrugs. "If life gave you what you expected, cerri - what would you be doing today that is worthy twenty thousand?" A wink, and a chuckle. As for how to get in the convention, the houngan leans forward, suddenly very serious. "For this, I have my own parlour tricks, but they would be of no use to you. I do not know all that you can do, ah?" A slow grin. "But I would hide the ears, if you go in the front door, cerri.. A man of my tastes, I can appreciate the curves, even if the face is a little less tusky than I like. A man of this taste? I do not think he would look past the ears." Nevaeh sweeps the pocsec into her wriggling fingers as she bounces up from her seat on the table. "Frosty," she says, sounding much like a girl who is determined to sound confident until finds confidence. "One last," she says, like she were just struck by the thought. She pivots to face him, shoulders swaying to-and-fro, bucks her chin, "Is he married?" «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "How Lucky Are We?": 3 = 0 Successes "A man in this position, cerri.." Begins the ork, with a flash of broken tusks again. ".. finds it easier with a partner, ah? A pure, pretty little thing to keep his image .. healthy. Yes? Yes." He then leans back, quietly thumbing that hook again and looking a bit like a pleased cat in a canary house. Nevaeh clicks her tongue to her cheek and nods while shoving the datareader into her satchel purse. When her hand withdraws, her fingers are clasped to a cellphone, which she uses to gesture at his lap, "Can I sync with you, in case I have questions later, or would you rather I call another number?" "Were you another person.." Begins the tusker, with a laugh. He quietly accepts the sync request on his own phone; Whether his real one, or a cheap burner phone, who'll know the difference? After the swap is complete, he winks - utterly unabashed. "And now I can call you for all sorts of things, ah?" A chuckle, and he stands up from the chair. Broad bodied and as solid as most orks are. "I have things to get ready, then. Anything else you need, cerri?" Nevaeh tips her head and peers up at from under a troubled brow. Catching herself, she holds her chin high, forces a smooth smile and shakes her head, "No, I've got what I need to get started." She grins cheekily and checks her phone with a glance to ensure the transfer went through, "Boss." The scarred up tusker winks, and offers his right wrist. Hook gleaming in the dull light. "Shake on it?" He asks. He holds for a heartbeat, before that twisted little grin pops out and he chortles, shuffling around the table and to the door. Pausing just before he opens with his left hand. "Remember, cerri; Whatever else you do to this man, his heart must be pumping. He -must- be alive.." "Wait," Nevaeh looks up, stands and holds Oz with a look while her body twists, so she can slot her phone in the purse on the other side. "As near as I can figure, the safest way to go about this is to — take over — for the chaffeur shuttling him to the airport the morning he's supposed to leave. Assuming he isn't taking a hover." She bites her lip, troubles at it for a tic, then tips her head at him, "If I can make that happen, where would you want to do the vehicle transfer — or just the extraction? I can acquire a defiance on short notice and put him to sleep as he's getting in the car or once we're underway. He won't know what's happened until he wakes up for the party." A flash of tusk again. "You have a very quick head, Nevaeh. A blessing for one of the Blessed, ah?" As for the other questions, another sideways smirk "That is part of what I must get ready, cerri. A place where no one listens, yes? We have fourty eight hours. It will be enough time, I think, for me to get some place quiet and lonely ready. I will call you with that detail." Nevaeh nods faintly, "Wiz." She watches him leave, adding only, "I'll be in touch." «OOC» Nevaeh nods faintly, "Okay. Nev will dress appropriately in fine clothes. Black suit jacket, skirt and blouse — not today, but tomorrow. She'll arrive around 10am. She'll sit at the bar until 11:30, act appropriately discontented, check her phone and then hop on the elevator to go up to one of the floors. She'll be checking the maids. How careful are they? Do they leave the doors ajar for the sake of convenience while they go inside to clean?" «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Lucky Break?": 10 = 1 Success «OOC» Oz says, "they do indeed. Formerly, when the staff was larger, each maid could afford to take the time to make absolutely certain high clientelle weren't bothered. Rolling carts into the room proper, etc. Now, with staff carved out and falling numbers, they're having to rush and are gettng sloppy. Doors are left open while they clean, carts outside." «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Wiz. Second thing first. She will actually call tonight (approximately 10pm) after having obtained a throwaway, add minute cell from a kiosk. Ask for housekeeping. Assuming they pick up, she'll say she visited someone at the hotel yesterday and she thinks she left her pocsec, with important information, in their room. Can they check to see if anyone found one? If they say no, she'll ask if she can call back tomorrow and check with the day staff. What _time_ do they come on? If they don't pick up, then she'll try to obtain the direct number via the matrix and start calling early at 6:00 until someone picks up the phone. Checking for hour that the housekeeping staff comes on. No msgs left. Looking for a person, obv. " «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) spends 100 nuyen for "Throwaway phone w/60m.". «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Oh! I'm sorry, no. Housekeeping has a central line usually, but they're rarely there except at shift change in my experience. Although this is a different era. I'm projecting.;)" «OOC» Nevaeh says, "I can't ask when housekeeping comes on without raising suspicion, so I've got to give them a reason (like a lost item) — she won't leave anything really. Its just a fib, so it doesn't come across as odd when she asks when the day staff comes on." «OOC» Nevaeh mms, "No, it was a potential plan B. If she knows when they come on, then she can be at the hotel when the maids are stocking their carts. It tends to be early in the morning and not a lot of people are usually up at that hour. A maid is going to assume she's a resident being pushy, I would imagine. So, they wouldn't be overly surprised if she walks into their stock room like she owns the place, asking for towels and soap, and while they hasten to do that — stun the maid, grab the uniform (and the key) and go into his room." When Nevaeh calls, the hotel staff briefly put her on hold to check lost and found. Returning, they politely inform her that the current cleaning staff had not found a phone. However, she would check with the morning manager, who usually went on duty around four AM with the rest of her crew. «OOC» Nevaeh says, "She'll phone the hotel, with kiosk shitty phone, pretending to be a prospective room renter and ask about their airport transportation. Do they use car or holo-shuttles? Do they call a taxi? Is there a hourly shuttle (if a van) or do arrangements need to be made prior?" «OOC» Oz says, "Accomodations run the gamut from 166 a day upwards of 566 a day, depending on the clientelle, with more discrete pricing available depending on need. Guests are expected to provide their own transportation, but the hotel provides secure and covered parking." «OOC» Nevaeh shakes her head, "No. Not convince. He's a taxi driver. He's supposed to do what she says, right? Or so a rich person would assume. She'd do her best to be matter of fact about it. "Take the route you'd normally go by — between 6 and 10 am. I'm mapping a route for a client's security, so its important you take the most common route from the hotel to the airport." She'll tip him nicely, but not an alarming amount. 50 nuYen. "There's no rush. If it takes longer at this hour, that's fine." «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Okay. The last thing I was planning to add today was she'll do astral recon once home (same night as meeting with Oz). And promptly contact fixers for electronics b/r kit, jammer and defiance. I may also lift a couple cars IC." «OOC» Nevaeh says, "The two options I'm considering now are — One: go in, as maid, wait for him to come in, zap, dump in laundry cart, wheel downstairs to service trunk — which Oz may or may not be driving. Two: Have car on branch road off access road to airport. I'll follow his car, tell Oz when we come off the highway (and the license number), and we'll cut off the driver from both sides. We're right by the highway. So, we grab him and jam." Cabbie Results: The bemused cabbie seems hesitant at first, but a 50 nuyen tip puts him more at ease with the odd request. The journey to the airport is fairly straight forward; Hit the highway, pass through customs in between regions and finally arrive at Denver International. The whole journey would take about twenty to thirty minutes, a bit longer depending on how bad customs is feeling that day. Astral Result: «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Stealth: 1 3 9 10 11 13 «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence vs TN 4: 2 3 3 5 8 11 = 3 Successes In the astral, faint echoes of emotions paint the space around the hotel; Not enough to interfer, but certainly interesting. Mostly passions; The faint colors of lusts in most of the room, where some tryst or other was complete. A few jealous splashes, even one or two spiking memories of anger or annoyance. There are even - surprisingly enough - a few of the rooms that glow with the faint cadence of a ward. Mostly in the upper floors, and especially around the penthouse at the top. There'll be no going in there without setting off some wage mage's senses. The vast majority of the staff feel overworked; And they are. There aren't enough people to maintain the level of sophistication the hotel is aiming for, and so they've had to learn little cheats. Tucking only the part of the covers that can be seen, washing only half as much, etcetera. Hard workers, one and all - the lazy maids have been cut. Save for a couple who manage to shirk by sneaking their duties into someone else's roster. «OOC» Nevaeh nods. Okay. If she follows the trunk? Where's it lead? «OOC» Oz nods. It'll be difficult because it's not a living thing. They don't show up very well on astral at all. Easier to lock onto a person. Toss me an +int, lets see how well you do. «LOG NOTE: Nevaeh asked if there were any of the maids that were roughly her size» «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 3 for "Feeling lucky?": 5 = 1 Success «OOC» Oz says, "Yep!" «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence: 1 3 3 4 5 13 Slipping away from the hotel to follow the truck is difficult; Vehicles aren't alive, and they don't show up well on a plane of living emotions and souls. Still, she manages fairly well by focusing on the dull, grey shape rather than what it is, and it leads her back to - a shop. Specifically, the rear of a shop, where brightly colored living things come out to take packages inside. «OOC» Nevaeh will assense the area for anything particularly telling — accidents that might have happened. Can she look for spirits that might lead her back to the location? «OOC» Oz says, "Assense away! And while there are the usual gamut of minor spooks that feed on the splatter of heavy emotion - the astral equivalent of cockroaches - there isn't anything major in the area that you notice." «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence vs TN 4: 2 4 4 5 5 7 = 5 Successes This part of town is mostly clean, in terms of paranormal activity; Echoes of past murders are faint, years old and entirely unrecognizable save for an ancient ache and memory. Not uncommon in any part of Denver; Most big cities have blood on the streets at one point or another. Hard working people doing their best to etch a niche in the wall of commerce, bodies showing the faint traces of corruption that beset anyone who breathes the air pollution of Denver. A few bits of 'ware here or there to replace aged or missing pieces. And, of course, the faint smattering of astral critters that scurry in and out of the warm fire of emotive beings, cockroaches in the greater picture. You could probably find it again if you saw it while perceiving in astral; But the physical world outside of flesh and blood is a dark grey smear on a black chalkboard. «OOC» Nevaeh nods. "Okay. I don't know if it's too late to amend, but can we say that — rather than going to the bar and killing time — she astrally projected to watch maids habits?" :) «OOC» Oz grins. Sure! Where are you leaving your meat body while you do that? «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Prolly her shitty apartment." «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Conjuring vs TN 6 for "<TN4 + BG2: Conjuring a watcher at Crank apartment>": 3 3 5 11 = 1 Success «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Magic vs TN 4 for "Drain! Watcher. Shuddup.": 2 5 5 8 11 11 = 5 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Is it our lucky day? Did he arrive early?": 5 = 0 Successes You spend a few hours watching the maids and slipping into the unwarded rooms - but, alas, you cannot find the man you seek. Either he's only staying for one night - after the party itself - or he's arriving much later in the evening. An hour begins to approach, and the Watcher wavers in its duties. «Trying to effectively hit the library and use a 'trix version of google. Basic search, no computer skill, defaulting to 4 + 4 TN) «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence vs TN 8 for "<Matrix search: Mr. Man>": 2 3 5 5 11 11 = 2 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 for "times 3, how many hours do we see?": 1 You head to your local public 'trix access library. After an hour of waiting for one of the terminals to free up, you sign in and do a quick search for Jonathan Lorn. After hitting a multitude of data points from all over the world, you try to narrow it down. 'Denver' shortens the list to 'only' three million. 'Aztlan' narrows it further, to 'only' a few hundred thousand. Two hours later, you've got some basic data. A member of the Ministry of Mankind, married for six years, generic high-end mid-lifer. The only real interesting 'official' bit of him is that seven years ago he was one of many accused of conspiracy charges for the Unity Coalition. The charges were dropped for unknown reasons, and he was acquitted. As a side note, Mr. Lorn's official biography lists him as born in Louisiana, near Baton Rogue. «OOC» Nevaeh pouts. "Wiki (equivalent) Ministry of Mankind and Unity Coalition. Also, look on the hotels trix page to see if they have advertized any information on the party / conference, so Nev can see who / what it is for. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence vs TN 8 for "<Matrix search: Basic intel on MoM, UC & basic skinny on the conference>": 5 5 5 10 11 17 = 3 Successes The 'trix DataDump page leads to the hotel page, which in turn leads to the reservation for conference rooms. All are available save one, which is shown as rented throughout the day tomorrow, beginning at 10 AM. Probably for prep. While it doesn't have the number of WHO rented it, it does include a public contact number for information about the event itself (For participants only!) Nevaeh, using her kiosk brand generic cellphone, ringy-dingy the contact number. Q: Messaging service or person answer? And how they answer? An automated message answers: 'Thank you for calling the reservation hotline. If you know your invitation code, please key it in now for access to a live event representative. If you do not have your invitation code, please contact your event handler. Enter your code, now." Nevaeh hangs up, hms. «OOC» Nevaeh shakes her head, "No. I'm going to try to rent a room." «OOC» Oz says, "166, per the usual fare on the +dir ah/5" «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 4 for "SIN Check": 1 4 7 = 2 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 4 vs TN 3 for "SIN Check": 1 2 4 4 = 2 Successes «OOC» Oz says, "Match, you win." Nevaeh will go to the Rez and purchase the nicest stolen (small, carry-on size) suitcase they're hawking in the Souk. In it, she will pack her gear, a medkit, one set of fine clothing and one set of street clothes. She will take a gyp into the CAS (stopping at a restaurant like Three Happiness and then call a legit taxi to take her to the Burnsley. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) spends 120 nuyen for "Purchase of repossessed carry-on sized suitcase from Souk". «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) spends 110 nuyen for "Taxi driver, 1st day, recon. Fare + 50 nuYen tip.". «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) spends 300 nuyen for "Gypsy taxi rates are ridic. Warrens to 3 Happiness!". «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) spends 30 nuyen for "Taxi fare. 3 Happiness to Aztlan.". The trip to Aztlan is not one of excitement; It's a long trip from the Rens, considering how far one has to travel to find an actual working on-ramp to the highway. The whole point of the Warrens was its isolation and lawlessness, after all. About roughly thirty minutes later, and past a couple of checkpoints, the Taxi finally pulls up outside the hotel. Heeding Oz warning, Nevaeh arrives at the hotel wearing her hair styled in a braided updo that allows her to bury the tips of her ears in her hair. A close inspection might give her away, so she wears a jacket with a cowled hood to further obscure them. Its a long trip from the Warrens, so she arrives looking like a proper traveler: tired and wanting to relax. Once she pays the taxi man, she hops out of the car, grabs her carry-on and heads toward the reception desk to check in. While in the lobby, she'll keep an eye out for Lorn and spy any conventioners gathering / catching up in the lobby. «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Normal check-in time, so 3-ish." ----------—[ Shadowrun Denver ]—- ==========================> Current Denver Weather <=========================== Condition : FREEZING FOG Temperature : 22 F (-5 C) Feels Like : 22 F (-5 C) Humidity : 99 % Barometer : 30.15 Visibility : 0.5 miles Wind : 5 mph from W ----> Last Updated: Jan 13 2075 11:35 CST <---- Even at 15:00 hours, it's a blistering -5 C outside. The wind isn't high - only five miles an hour - but it's enough to whip a freezing fog up and down the streets, the sky the color of old egg-white. The taxi driver speeds off after dropping the 'human' fare, once again melting into the background life of Denver. The lobby itself is clean, and elegant in a fading glory sort of way. Lots of burnished, fake gold and comfortable faux-wood paneling. The receptionist is cheerful enough, considering its her job, and the entire process is remarkably quick. There is a brief pause as her SIN goes through the initial checks, but it eventually clears. Just one of those little 'hiccups', mm? While the lobby is clear, there does appear to be some commotion going on around the corner of the first floor. People shouting and the sound of genteel rushing. Nevaeh will stroll down that way, passing by. Curious smile! What does she see as she gets closer? What will she see? Why, a couple of hotel security, quietly blocking the hallway, of course. They've got a pleasant enough expression, but they're effective walls; Someone paid for a private conference, and someone is going to get it. "I'm sorry ma'am, this hallway is closed. The elevators are behind you, and to the left." Nevaeh willl apologetic smile, blush and nod while circling back. "Of course! My mistake." Smile. She'll head up to her room, call watcher to watch her and cautiously snoop the astral. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Conjuring vs TN 4 for "<Conjuring a watcher in Burnsley hotel room. 0BG>": 1 4 5 10 = 3 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Magic vs TN 4: 2 4 5 7 8 16 = 5 Successes When Nevaeh comes into the room, the goings-on downstairs are forward in her mind. Once she passes the threshold, she quickly shuts the door and throws her suitcase atop the bed. She takes a step toward the middle of the room and hesitates when she spots a chair positioned at the near end of the room's long dresser. While possibly unnecessary, the thought bubbles up in her mind and she decides to act on it; she and props it against the exit to block the handle from turning. Once this brief interlude is complete, she springs across the room, thrusts open the curtains and kneels on the thinly carpeted floor. She keeps her eyes up at the sky while her hands unwind her cowl and blindly release it to the floor; a few meditative breathes are drawn before she closes her eyes and wills the moon's silhouette into her mind. With that imagine prominent in her thoughts, she calls on the water while her fingers stroke the small course symbols on her cheap metal rings. They are talismans, but not foci; they will be some day. When the watcher arrives, she instructs it to watch her body while she projects and warn her immediately of any harm is imminent. After the spirit is assigned its task, she unfurls; she lay flat on her back, except where she curls the jacket under her neck for support, closes her eyes and drops her arms, so her palms are turned up at the ceiling. "Wish me luck," she says, not expecting an answer. Nor does she get an answer, the Watcher spirit settling into place with uncanny devotion to detail. There are some who believe the Watcher is merely a piece of the caster themself drawn into the astral form; Others, some form of 'pupae' spirit. Still, others think the whole thing is a load of rubbish. Whatever the truth, it is fastidious in it's fixed position, Watching. The astral plane, as it interacts with the hotel, as much as Nevaeh remembers it; The echoed splashes of lust and anger, jealousy and laziness throughout the rooms. Sharp stress, cool depression. Sagging with memories of so many souls passed through. But these are mere backgrounds to the burning, brilliant auras of the living things, right down to the specks of bacteria here and there. The essence of life! Now that's she floating and free - what does she do? Nevaeh returns to the hallway downstairs, but she doesn't rush for the excitement. If there is physical security, there may be astral security too. She'll tread carefully and attempt to reach the conference room unnoticed. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Stealth: 2 2 3 3 4 4 ----------—[ Shadowrun Denver ]- ==============> Contents of Nevaeh's carried equipment (#3871) <=============== | Item | Qty | IC Location | Description | *—+-+----+-------—* | * 1 | 1 | Carried | Dark Horse Balaclava | | * 2 | 1 | Carried | Secure Ultra-Vest | | * 3 | 1 | Carried | Real Leather Clothing | | 4 | 1 | Carried | Defiance Super Shock | | 5 | 1 | Carried | Signal Jammer (Rating 6) | | 6 | 1 | Carried | Electronics Minitools | | 7 | 1 | Carried | Savior Advanced Medical Kit | | 8 | 1 | Carried | Fine Clothing | =============================== 8 Items Listed ================================ Type '+vinfo #3871/<item>' for full information about an item. Items marked with * have stats. Type '+sheet #3871:<item>' to view. Type '+help voucher' for help on the voucher system. «Auto-Judge[]» Voucher Authenticity Verified «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 for "Observers?": 5 «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 5 vs TN 5 for "Observed?": 1 2 2 3 10 = 1 Success As you slide through floor after floor towards the conference room below, SOMETHING glowing passes by a wall nearby you. It quickly twists as you go past; Whatever it is has seen you! Still, nothing seems to be immediatly chasing you - that you can tell. The conference room below is much like you've left it. Two guards standing in the hallway, radiating boredom, while six difference people crawl about within the room itself. It's hard to tell what they're doing on astral; Fiddling with dark grey objects that don't show clearly on astral, or placing things on the wall. There is a conversation, but the noise doesn't translate to this plane of reality; Just the intent. Orderous, imperious command from one in the middle. Weak acquiesence or resolute acknowledgement from the others. Prior to retreating to her flesh, Nevaeh will circuit the lobby and the first floor hallway to see if she spots Lorn. If she doesn't find him, she'll pop back upstairs and saddle her meatsuit. The Watcher - when dismissed for now - retreats deep into the astral plane; Ready to be called on until the forces binding it together finally dissipate in the next four hours. A few heartbeats pass, but no one comes to kick down Nevaeh's door. At least, not yet. It's about this time that her phone indicates an incoming call. Nevaeh is about to get all bibbidy-bobbity boo when her cell starts playing the latest hip-shimmeying tune blazing the trixwaves. She eyes it with a resigned smirk, drops her arms limp at her sides and then struts across the room to answer it. (Directed into the phone) The voice on the other end sounds quite familiar. Considering he'd said he'd call with the drop off. "Cerri..?" <Phone> Nevaeh answers, exhaling the greeting with a wistful sigh, "Hoi." A pause. "Good timing. What's up?" "Skraa, then. I've the place ready. How is the tharon doing?" Comes the response from the houngan. There appears to be a faint echo in the background. "Your call, cerri. I've setup near highway two eight five near platt river.." There is a faint pause, as Oz shifts the phone to his other shoulder. One can hear a faint feathery struggle before a solid -thunk- into wood. Scrape. "I thought it would be easier for you to stay in the same zone, ah?" There is a pause when she makes her real wishes known, and one can almost hear the tusked grin. "My help, kurv? Why not speak to your godling, ah?" Nevaeh smiles at her reflection in the mirror, turns her eyes at the phone and shakes her head dismissively when he makes the 'godling' remark. "What I'm trying to ask boss is — do you want this to be pickup or delivery?" she says lightheartedly. "Delivery is best, cerri." Begins the voice over the phone, with a dark little chuckle. "If you need me to help you double team someone, it had better be a much prettier boy, yes?" An unabashed bit of laughter. "I can pickup if I must. I am not as .. easily hidden, perhaps, but this thing can be done. Will you be part of that pickup as well?" "The method by which I get the meatsack to you will really avail itself as the evening goes on, I suspect," Nevaeh tells him lightly, circling away from her reflection. She sweeps a hand across her brow while taking a seat at the edge of the dresser. Her head bows with her gaze, dipped in thought, as she continues the conversation, "We don't know if he's going out to meet someone; if he has any clandestine meetings arranged,…" yay, big words!, "… or when his flight is. Once he's downstairs, assuming I can locate his room, I'll go snoop around in his stuff. With that, I should be able to narrow down our choices, yeah?" Nevaeh bucks her chin up and swings an empty look up at the wall, "So, can I call you back tonight then? Once we got that?" "Let me know either way, cerri. If I need to.. borrow a man, it will have to be done carefully, yes? I prefer delivery; It will make things much easier to keep the scavengers away. The smell draws them." With that little bit out, the ork cuts the line with a cheerful 'Dukey curet!' Downstairs, the word echos in Nevaeh's mind, reminding her she hasn't told him her location. "Oh, yeah. I rented a room." She tells him the number in case it becomes important later. When he starts talking, she shuts up and listens while her roaming gaze floats up at the ceiling, bobbing a nod at no one. "Yep." A pause. "Wiz." Pause again. "Duke-y cure-it." The line goes dead. And now, it appears, it's time to do some moon magic in a manner entirely more serious than that sounds? It does sound incredibly emo. Nevaeh's thumb punches the 'end call' button on her phone while she pops up. As she strolls toward the window to give the darkening sky a curious look, her hand shirks at her side and lazily tosses her cell onto the mattress. She doesn't need the light of the moon; it isn't her preferred magically environment. The moon is like her mother; she never sees her, but she feels her none-the-less. Its presence doesn't bestow her with the orgasmic finger-to-toe tingles or sharpen her magical acuity, but she's comforted by it. Anyway, Nevaeh shrugs at the daylit sky and starts to cast 'invisibility.' How do people talk themselves up to trying this without feeling completely douchey? There's chanting, ENGLISH — not Gaelic or some shit — a prayer of intent, head rolling and body stroking while she dances around. Boom. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Sorcery + 4 vs TN 4 for "<Improved Invis F3+4SP. No advantages; no bg>": 1 2 3 3 4 4 5 9 11 = 5 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Willpower + 4 vs TN 2 for "<Drain ImpInv v 2(1/2F rounded up)>": 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 3 4 5 = 7 Successes Nevaeh does the 'Wayne's World' doody-du-du spirit fingers, without the sound effects, and poofs. Alright, time to lurk! She heads to the door, cracks it open, checks the hall and slips outside. She's headed for the lobby. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Stealth: 1 2 3 4 5 5 «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 for "Observers?": 4 «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 4 vs TN 10 for "Any of them paying attention?": 3 10 10 15 = 3 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 5 for "Any actually able to SEE what the crap it is?": 1 2 4 = 0 Successes s Neveah opens her door, things go immediatly wrong. Namely, because there is someone passing by at the time. The man pauses, tilting his head back to peer past her and into the room as the door slowly swings closed. "Hello?" He asks. A frown, and a suspicious glance up and down the hallway before he begins to edge his way back towards his own room. Spooky. And things just get worse. It's one of those unfortunate moments when you realize how narrow hotel hallways can be. A small group of chattering elves move by, one bumping into her hip. Again, a general sense of confusion before the press on, conversation subdued. Finally, her shoes squeak as she hits the tiles at the bottom of the stairs. The evening clerks glance up from their monitors, glancing around with faintly puzzled expressions. Each awkward moment causes Nevaeh's heart to skip a beat. By the time she reaches the hallway, her fingers are curled in the fabric of her blouse and while the butt of her palm kneads her aching sternum relentlessly. When she is sure no one is coming, she steals away behind a neo-marble pillar and breathes a relieved sigh at her shoulder. While her resolve recovers, she observes the lobby cautiously, watching for Lorn or his compatriots, while actively listening for something — anything — relevant to the convention. And now, the worse part of any job; Waiting. Wondering if you've got it wrong. 15:45 slowly tickes around to 16:00, then 16:30, and only guests have come in and out of the building so far. Chattering as they check in, chattering as they check out. Physically hidden behind the column and in an out of way place as she is, Nevaeh manages to get away with quite a bit. Just about as 17:00 begins to roll around, she finally sees the first few people begin to show up. An older human couple, both of which check in at the desk and then head around the corner, amicably speaking in low tones as they head towards the conference room.. Some people arrive fashionably late. Others fashionably early. «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Is there a lot of traffic behind the reception desk?" «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Do you feel Lucky, punk?": 10 = 1 Success «OOC» Oz says, "Nope. One or two receptionists at the desk itself, every one else busy at other stations. Monitoring the garage, etc." «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Is the reception desk open to the lobby or do employees have to pass through a backroom to access the desk?" «OOC» Oz says, "We're going to say it has a swinging gate near the edge of the 'island' desk in the event they need to get around to help some guest or other." «OOC» Oz says, "Designed to look like the desk is all one piece, obviously." «OOC» Nevaeh says, "I was wanting to listen in on the gab between the conference goers and the receptionists. My thought process being when people come to a hotel, they usually ask questions — like… has 'so and so' arrived yet? And, also, while making keys receptionists might tell you your room number, while handing you the key. So, I thought I could listen in — to see if someone checked in for Lorn — or if he checked in himself." «OOC» Oz nods. IF you get to the other side of the desk, where do you intend to lurk? «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Good question. Is the desk long — with lots of empty terminals — or brief with only a couple filled spots where people are working?" «OOC» Oz says, "It's fairly long, but there are only three terminals at any one time. So that guests aren't having to crowd one another if there's a queue. There are two doors directly behind the desk, one marked 'Security'. There are two narrow hallways 'hidden' by the edge of the wall, likely leading to a break room or some employee access to laundry/etc." «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Ooh. Squirrel! Can I lurk down that hallway?" «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Stealth: 1 1 1 2 3 4 «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Stealth for "<KP2/5>": 2 4 5 5 5 5 «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 10 for "Standard Civ Int": 1 4 9 = 0 Successes «OOC» Oz grins. By the by, I may be using Improved Invis wrong. It should be their int vs. your improved invis, trying to outdo your successes. Since classice civ int is 3, I'm not even bothering to see if they can see through your illusion; Rather, to see if they can hear you and notice things. :D «OOC» Oz says, "And for the log note, so I can take the slap from staff later." «OOC» Oz says, "SO! Butt first, twist to polish the paneling and leg it to the hall? Give me a pose, you are unnoticed." People are arriving! Nev watches the older couple pass toward the hallway that shall not be entered, quirks an eyebrow and turns a curious look at the desk. Idea. She slips through the crowd and darts into a sleuthy squat once she circles around the end of the counter. SLOWLY, her head rises, so she can peer at the receptionsts profiles while her raised eyebrows and squinted eyes ebb and pulse from strained concentration. Duh-duh-duh! When they appear appropriately distracted, the waifish elf girl pops up onto the ledge, thankful for the high gloss synethetic wood countertops, and swivels around with her knees high in the air. She sinks down — FAIRLY UNSTEATHIL, but the sound of her boots hitting the ground — which is incredibly loud to her — doesn't seem to attract the attention of employees. This is evident, but only AFTER she's sat seconds, cringing in anticipation of the alarm buzzing or women blerging in panic! When that doesn't happen, a wave of relief washes over her unseen expression. She smiles gleefully at her own good fortune, releases a breath against her shoulder and then starts toward that yummy tempting hallway. Steathily-ish. Both hallways are narrow, to the point where two people would have to turn sideways to get past each other. These are the employee corridors, after all, not built for comfort. Both are also labeled, with the labels faced on the inside wall. So that the guests can't see them, of course. One hallway leads to 'BreakRoom' and has a scheduling sheet on it, along with a virtual calendar where requests for days off can be put. And usually ignored. There are also notices written, such as 'Conference 1B - 'United We Stand' - 18:00 - CHECK RESERVATION NUMBERS!!' overlined on today's date. Along with pulling a couple of security guards off their normal patrols just to watch that particular hallway. With special instructions to not ENTER the conference room itself unless specifically given permission by the host. The other hallway leads to laundry, and the faint smell of chemical soaps. «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Does it show what time the sec guards rotate out?" «OOC» Oz says, "The conference is scheduled to go until 22:00. Rotation for normal shifts at 20:00" «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence: 1 4 5 5 5 8 From the hallway, Neveah can make out faint voices in a muted conversation. By the sound of it, though, it's probably a trid-set on low volume. Nevaeh slinks down the 'break room' hall and skims the employee schedule. She isn't hungry, but she wonders if personal effects are kept within. She slinks up to the entranceway and peers in, searching for any doors off the breakroom that might lead to a locker room. Nevaeh is in luck; The break room does contain lockers, and a small double combo of bathroom/changing room at the very end. Thirteen lockers, mesh metal to prevent any employee theft. Half of the lockers currently have uniforms of varying states. Also, there's a mini-fridge. AND there is a Trid-Vid playing some political show. Liberals are losing, as always. Nevaeh hesitates at the entrance, taking a moment to check the hallway behind her with a cursory glance, and then starts toward the lockers. She checks sizes and ID badges. Most of the sizes are a little too shallow in the hips; Others are too long on the shoulders. Eventually she finds one that's juuuust right. The real question is; What now? It's 17:10, nearly fifty minutes before the conference is cheduled to start. «OOC» Nevaeh says, "I know this might seem like a strange question. I think, for now, I'm going to leave the uniform. I know the hallways are there, I can return later. I'm going to try to make my way out from behind the reception desk and head to a public restroom; she'll go into a stall and drop the spell. Afterwards, I'm gonna have her head into the bar and see if she can't find a potential conference goer — at the bar — in need of a +1." «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Can we get LUCKY tonight?": 1 = 0 Successes It's tempting to take the uniform, but Nevaeh doesn't. A quick glance at the clock reminds her that time is running out. She really wants to check out that conference! The elf slips out the hallway, mounts the end of the desk and slips her body down carefully at the other side. She glances around the lobby, checking for Lorn among them, while in route to the lobby's public bathroom. Nevaeh doesn't immediately rush in. Instead, she waits for a moment when there doesn't appear to be anyone heading her way and steps up to press her ear to the door. When the coast is clear, there is no sound of water rushing or people talking, she'll sneak inside and head to an available stall where she can drop the spell and pee! It's time to check the bar. Thinking she might be able to 'convince' someone to bring her along, using her natural charms or other methods, Nev pauses by the mirrors to ensure the tips of her elven ears are still tucked under her hair, dabs her makeup, puckerfaces, winks. As a last touch, she opens the top two buttons of her blouse, releasing her neck from the grip of an uncomfortably conservative neckline, and finally strikes out on the prowl! The lobby is relatively quiet when she slips back over the desk, and she's got no issues heading to the bathroom. It takes a few minutes as someone is washing their hands but - eventually - her patience pays off, and she gets an empty stall. And an empty bathroom. A quick tuck of the girls, a button loose to 'present', and duck-lips on the mirror. She's ready to roll! But, what is the definition of irony? One of them is about an environment that one expects to behave in one fashion, and it turns out to be contrary to a humerous effect. While this isn't irony, it is funny; For while the hidden elf tucks up the girls and gets ready to prowl, a certain someone is taking in his last drink. She'll spot him - almost immediatly - as she walks into the small off-lobby resturaunt slash bar. Jonathan Lorn. Frowning as he occasionally glances to the clock on the wall - 17:23 - and then giving a soft, sharp retort to the single haraunged waitress about the state of his meal. He's an important man, he has important places to be, and if she can't manage to produce something edible in the next five minutes, she won't have to worry about ever producing a sandwich again. At least, not in this sector of Denver. Snorting his derision, the man turns his attention back to the hand-held trid-vid, scanning the local stations. Nevaeh strolls up to the bar, but doesn't sit; she sets her clutch down, prying it open to take out a lipstick pen, and waits patiently for the bartender to come ask her order. While she waits, hoping it will take a while for her to be noticed by staff, she turns her eyes at the corners and assenses Lorn. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence vs TN 4: 2 3 3 3 4 14 = 2 Successes Jonathan Lorn is a rather healthy human; He keeps himself that way. Very few pollutants run in his veins, the heaviest in his lungs - likely from cancer sticks. In so much as you can tell, he is utterly unaugmented, keeping his flesh pure and clear of cyberware. He is also mundane - from what you can tell. In general, his aura flashes the hazy color of aggravation fluttering against a faint nervousness, which leads him to annoyance. Which is probably what he's taking out on the waitress. Nevaeh's eyelashes flit as her eyes turn away from Lorn to scan the room. After having reapplied her lipstick and brushed her lips together to spread it evenly, she clips the top and slips it in her purse. While wriggling busily within the small conservative clutch, her fingers find the slim 10-pack of she keeps for just such an ice-breaking opportunity; she shakes a cigarette free, resting it between her pinched fingers, and pinches the clutch closed after slipping the pack inside. "Excuse me?" Nevaeh crosses the room to speak to Lorn. When she comes to a stop by his chair, she smiles softly, rocks a hip at him and holds the unlit cigarette, twitching between her ceiling, up for him to see. "I'm sorry to bother you, but do you, by chance, have a light?" «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 3 for "Luck, be a LADY tonight..": 7 = 1 Success There really isn't much happening in the resturaunt tonight; A single couple in the back, murmuring to each other. Which rather makes Lorn's complaint about the speed of his sandwich more precise. why IS it taking so long to make a friggin' bit of meat surrounded by two slices of bread? Even if it's 'fancy'. When the lady hips her way up to him with a classic come-hither line, Jonathan takes a moment to look down - and then up. Before a flash of immaculate white teeth. "Yeah, I do." He states, dipping a hand into his vest to bring out a FusionTorch Zep. The top is flipped open, heating coils instantly glowing a wavering white - open flame is a faux pass now a days, isn't it? Before he can do much more, though, the waitress arrives from the tiny pantry-slash-kitchen and starts. "Oh! I'm going to have to a-ask you to take that to the lobby, p-please.." A single glare from Lorn shuts her right up. "Whiz. You're a life saver," Nevaeh beams, bending forward to accept his gratitude; she meets his eyes with a curious look as her body dips forward, the cigarette held to her lips. She smiles impishly through the awkward moment where she hovers, sipping air through the nic-filter, uncertain if its actually lit. After a few sharp breaths, it does. The cherry burns hot, sparking reddish-orange; she tastes it and seconds later, she feels the sudden dizzy spell from the nicotine punch to her bloodstream. She withdraws, rising up, and observes him with a quizzical side-turned look while her pursed lips exhale a stream of smoke away from him. The momentary high is savored for a millisecond, her eyelashes flitting slowly. Once the world stops spinning, she flits her thumb at her brow and gives a quick look around for an ashtray; her dark eyes shift back at him when she comes up empty. "Thanks," she rasps, sounding as satisfied as she looks. "The service around here sucks; I really needed something to take the edge off." On cue, the waitress comes out from the back; Nevaeh doesn't look back, but she turns an ear at the woman's plea. When Lorn gives the woman a look, the elfine-featured human smiles softly at him and shakes her head dismissively while looking around for a quick place to extinguish it. "No, it's okay," she says, her tone gentle and understanding. "She's just doing her job." A pause, Nevaeh dabs her fingers lightly at his shoulder, "But thank you. Again." Nevaeh looks away from him, giving a quick look around the room, and spots a glass of clear liquid abandoned on the counter. She takes another quick drag, since the cigarette is already lit, and then drops the nicstick inside it. Her fingers brush together, shedding any remnants of nicotine, then gently nudge the glass to the other side of the bar, so the bartender will see it."Do you mind if I join you?" Nevaeh asks, strutting back to his table with her hands turned in at her hips. Amused, she smiles at him and drops a wink as her body sways to a hip-hitching stop behind an empty chair at his table; her hands float gracefully to the back of it. "It might be a while before they get to me; company will at least make the wait more enjoyable." Jonathon Lorn keeps his eyes steady when his new 'friend' slips over to light her cig; A gentleman? Hardly. There's a reason such little tet a' tets are done with the lighter held low. The thin lips slide sideways for a moment as he is given a breathful view, before the cherry finally takes. The FusionTorch is snapped closed and tucked away again, the well suited man relaxing back to his seat; Elbow on pomel, head propped with a finger at his temple. Thoughts of food briefly suspended as he glances down at the rather elegant looking sandwich - and dismisses it. When she dumps the nicStick as someone else's problem, that sideways grin grows a bit brighter; Now here's someone used to power. A glance at the clock confirms his limited time, before he rolls his shoulders nonchalantly. "I've a few minutes to spare." He states, making sure to lock a gaze on the Waitress before his next line. "And, yeah. The service here is shit. You're going to be sitting for a while." Finally, he lowers that arm and leans back a bit, in order to get a touch of perspective. ".. I know you, don't I?" Nevaeh keeps her attention focused on Lorn while gently easing the seat gently back from the table. The look on her face could only be described as coy or reluctantly charmed; there's a blush in her pale cheeks and her full lips are pursed to restrain a broad smile from springing to life. The elf is in no rush; it can't be rushed. She strikes tall and struts around the chair while her fanned fingertips sweep breezily at the arm. She raises her chin a notch as she steps closer and peers down to observe him with playful suspicion. Her heels draw together in front of the chair, prompting her hands to her hips; her fingers swim across the fabric of her skirt, smoothing away any creases, while she slowly sinks back onto the edge of the seat. "Maybe," she counters; the smile prevails, but she quickly dips her head and reins it before raising her chin at him a second time. Her eyelashes flit, "It's possible." She licks her lips with a dab of her tongue, quirks an eyebrow and tips her head at him infinitesimally, "I meet a lot of powerful men." Ah, there's nothing quite as pleasing to a man who seeks power as to be referred too - even in the third hand - as among that peerage. A hand is swept back along the crest of his hair, an unconscious tic, before he adjusts his tie once. Something to do with his hands while his new companion is seating herself at the chair, demure and coyish as a cat-house geisha. The smile is muted now, as Lorn grips his chin and taps a finger along his jaw line. "Mm. Chicago business review?" He asks, eyebrow arching slowly. A slight flash of teeth from the side of his smile. "I'll catch it soon, you know." A glance back at the clock - damnable time to have a limit. 17:40. "You here for the conference as well?" He knows she's not; He helped make the invite list, after all. But it's a nice segue into how much influence he can offer. Nevaeh shakes her head, lips pursed, "Mm-mm." She looks away from him momentarily, dipping her eyes shyly while a broad smile stretches across her face. When she looks back, meeting his gaze, her eyelashes dip and rise purposefully, "I was supposed to meet a client, who did say he was here for a conference of some kind, but … " her shoulders bump the air with a muted shrug, "… he had to cancel last minute. His wife showed up unexpectedly and surprised him." The smile fades away for a moment as the realization hits; 'Client'. When it comes back, there's a touch of a predator there. She might be a high-brow woman, but she has a price tag. "Shame when that happens." He begins, glancing at the clock again before back. "Why don't you stick around for a while? Conference takes a break at eight pee em.. And then continues on until ten. We could chat a bit more afterwards, swap 'troubles' for a while, hm? I've no plans to go to bed early tonight." Nevaeh tips an eyebrow at him and bobs a nod while the corners of her mouth twitch, reviving her waning smile. "I was hoping you'd ask," she admits softly. "While I esteem all of my clients, I don't normally get an opportunity to choose. It's part of the job. It's rare I meet someone with such a commanding presence. I find it intriguing." She winks, sits forward and crooks an arm, so her arched fingers can pluck her purse from the table. "Are you sure you don't want company? For your conference? I make excellent eyecandy." "Word gets around, especially for men like me." Smirks the man, certain he has his hooks into what is undoubtedly a whore. A good looking one, a flattering one, and one who'd probably prefer the more expensive term 'companion' - but a whore none the less. He knows the game. A single keypass is pulled out of his jacket, and laid on the table as he stands up. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'll be up when I'm done." A pause, and that possessive little smirk. ".. Keep the dress." Nevaeh smiles, dipping her eyes down at the key, then looks up at him to dip a nod. "I'll be waiting." An eyebrow arches up, "Should I have anything on ice for when you're done?" "Mm. A nice ciante, I think." The man flashes those white teeth again in a smile. Bought and paid for, he gets to have a little fun and never mind the cow he keeps at home for his rep. With a slight spring in his step, the man shuffles out the resturaunt and bar for the conference; After all, why not feel confident? Tonight's going to be a good night. Nevaeh watches Lorn leave with a pleased smile, dabbing a wave with dancing fingers. Once he disappears from view, she pops up from the chair, takes his key and heads upstairs. Once safely inside the room, Nevaeh sets her things down and checks astral to ensure she doesn't have anything checking up on her there. Astral reveals - nothing. The same splashes of emotion that Nevaeh had sensed everywhere else in the hotel, coloring the rooms. Not even a watcher spirit to guard his things; Mr. Lorn is, as it were, utterly mundane. Frosty. Nev switches back with a blink and looks around the room. If he has a pocsec, she'll inspect it. If he has a bag, she'll peer inside it. She's looking for keys that suggest he has a rental vehicle or anything that might indication when his flight scheduled the next day. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence: 3 3 3 4 5 5 «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence for "<KP:3/5>": 1 2 2 2 3 10 Digging through her new 'John's place, Nevaeh comes up with a few things; He's packed few clothes. Enough, perhaps, for a single change, so he wasn't expecting to stay long. Tickets are virtual now-a-days, and linked to SIN, so no appropriate business man would be caught dead with paper tickets like some commoner. No PocSec, but his alarm is set for 0900 hours - a late start in the day for someone with a flight, so maybe an afternoon outage? He didn't leave a PocSec or - really - anything he'd be worried about losing by giving his keypass to a 'companion'. Room snooped, Nevaeh plops down on the edge of the bed, wriggles her kiosk phone from her clutch and bats the screen vigorously with the pad of her thumb. When she hears the familiar ring, she cants her head and plants the phone to her ear, waiting for Oz to pick up the line. It takes a few rings before he does; Either it's hard to juggle a phone with one hand, or he was busy doing THINGS. When he does, the houngan's breath is a touch bubbly. He takes a moment to clear his throat, and speaks. "Skraa..?" "Hoi. Its me," Nevaeh chirps. "Good news." She singsongs at him, "I got a date tonight." "So I should set dinner for one, cerri?" Comes the prodding comment. One can almost hear the grin from the carved up houngan. Nevaeh pauses. As much as she might hear him grin, he can nearly hear her expression go blank. "I dunno what that means," she admits, her tone without emotion. "With other people maybe, but when you say it — it makes me wonder if you've taken up cooking." Pause. " … not there's anything wrong with that but … I dunno how to respond." There is a pause on the other side of the line, and a shuffle as the phone is moved off of speaker and placed closer to the mouth. "Ya bleadjax. You have some news for me besides a date?" He asks. A faint ringing in the background of a blade being sharpened. "Yah." Nevaeh blinks and bobs a nod at the floor. "Right. Sorry." She clears her throat, "If all goes well, we'll be coming to you, ya? I need to know where you are." "South platt river drive, under highway 285. You got the Sight, cerri? Able to see the soul winds? I will leave a godling to watch for you." The ringing stops, and there's a dark little chortle. "You got your hooks into him, kurv? .. well done." "Mm. Yeah?" Nevaeh listens for the address and nods at his question. "Alright, I'll keep an eye out." His comment prompts a rueful smile he cannot see, "Yeah, I got lucky, but I'll take it." She hesitates, "I'll keep you up to date on the progress of things. The conference has a short intermission at eight. It ends at ten. So expect to hear from me — one way or another — by midnight." "Midnight? Good hour. Ghede's time." Another soft laugh. "I'll listen for you, then, cerri. Good hunting." "Thanks. Scan ya later," Nevaeh says. The hand holding the cell drops to her lap; while she eyes the phone, her thumb ends the call with a jab. She looks up, blinks slowly and looks around with a shake of her head. "Does everyone just play it by ear?" she wonders aloud. "Is that what it takes to be a valuable and independent? Improv skills?" Fuck. The walls give her no answers to her query as to what it'd take to break loose her life in the 'Rens. And the digital holo-clock is quietly ticking away the minutes. She's got a few hours - what to do, what to do? Nevaeh slots her phone and heads to her own room. She'll grab her Defiance, in case its needed, and temporarily place it in a nightstand drawer. Q: How do people order service for the room? Is it a call or a panel on the LCD? «OOC» Oz says, "Depends on the client. They can create an order straight from the trid-vid, or call down front if they prefer the living touch on the phone. It's an antiqudated method, but some clients are antiquidated." «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Can Nevaeh order a rental car from the trid? Is 'car' an option?" «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 3 for "How lucky can one gal be?": 2 = 0 Successes «OOC» Oz says, "Oo, sorry. That'll take the resident guest's SIN" «OOC» Oz grins. You can order one from your OWN room, but not from his. «OOC» Oz says, "High expense item and all that." She will go to her room and order a rental vehicle. She'll grab her electronics b/r kit and break into one of the maid's stock rooms. She'll be looking for a laundry cart and potentially a maglock key for the service level. She'll call on a watcher to keep an eye on Lorn — if he comes upstairs or exits the hotel, she wants to know. She'll then go back to her room, drop off the b/r kit and go invisibly. Invisible Nev will head downstairs to the lobby. She'll try to get back behind the desk and into the break room for that uniform. Then she upstairs. «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Wait. Wait. As much as I like a challenge, I'll have her cast improved inv and /then/ break into the closet. «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 2 for "Try that again. Security rating for lock?": 2 4 «OOC» Oz says, "give me a cast for Improved Invis, and then the stealth and attempts to bypass a Rating 4 maglock on the maid's scullery." «OOC» Oz says, "give me a cast for Improved Invis, and then the stealth and attempts to bypass a Rating 4 maglock on the maid's scullery." «OOC» Oz says, "It'll be two electronics b/r. First is to remove casing, base time 60 seconds. SEcond is the critical; Messing with the circuit, base time 60. Both rating 4." «OOC» Oz says, "the first you can try again and again. The second you get one shot at." «OOC» Oz says, ".. Without KP, that is." «OOC» Oz says, "Obviously, you can try again WITH KP." «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Sorcery + 2 + 2 vs TN 4 for "<Sorcery+2(Illusion Adv)+2SP vTN4 (No bg)>": 1 1 2 3 4 4 5 11 16 = 5 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Willpower + Sorcery Pool: 3 vs TN 2 for "<Willpower+3SP v 2 (1/2F Improved Inv rounded up)>": 2 3 3 4 4 8 8 9 10 = 9 Successes ----------—[ Shadowrun Denver ]- ===================> Item 6 on nevaeh's carried equipment <==================== Item Name: Electronics Minitools Item Type: ITEM Quantity: 1 Fractional OK: No Clonable: No Players Can Link: No Created For: Nevaeh (#10939) Created By: Rando (#1923) IC Location: Carried -----> GM Notes for Item <-----— Jan 13 04:29 +info gear custom misc minitool — SR3 288. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls 4 for "<Electronics b/r: Removing scullery maglock cover>": 1 1 3 8 «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls 4 vs TN 4 for "<Electronics b/r: Overriding circuitry on scullery maglock v tn/4>": 1 2 3 5 = 1 Success Duh-duh dun-du-du! Do-do-do! Yeah. _Just_ like that, but less smooth. Nev goes to the previously located scullery down the hall, extracts a few tools and prys back the maglock cover. She isn't strong enough to pry it off, so she has to wait and dab the glue disintegrating liquid along the edge and wait through the dragging tictocs. When it pops away from the wall, she grabs it and begins fiddling with the circuitry. Its been a while since she's had at a project, so it takes her another achingly slow minute to get the juice. Luckily, she doesn't fuck it up. Red wire pulled, blue wire frayed, touched to alpha, fuse pulled. When she hears the satisfying snit of the door's bolt slotting into the wall, she mentally cheers! Outwardly, she just bobs excitedly. She slips the cover back on the maglock, adds the temporary adhesive so its stuck loosely to the wall and then heads into the scullery to snoop. «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Of all the rotten luck..": 5 = 0 Successes The whole process takes an excrutiating one hundred and twenty seconds; That's a lot of heartbeats waiting for someone to round the corner and wonder why a maglock was disassembling itself. But, whether the cameras are pointed the wrong way or she just got very lucky, no one crosses the sneak thief until she's already in the scullery itself. Which is laid out like one may expect a scullery to be: A tight, L shaped cubby filled with racks of clean towels, cleaning supplies, a heavy duty rolling laundry/trash tray, and a mop/bucket with a small faucet-floor drain combo in the corner. Nevaeh comes in. The elf hopes to find a _cart_, a maglock keycard for basement entry, _and_/_or_ a uniform. Is yes? Is no? She looks. Cart? Yes. Heavy duty trolley for laundry/trash and holding cleaning supplies. Uniform? Negative. Only some plastic scrubs in case some guest's brat blatts all over the nice carpet. Keycard? Alas. Nevaeh is happy to see the cart! The others, she expected, were likely nope. Cart acquired; she'll fetch that later if needed. The elf cracks open the door and checks the hall; when it is clear of any suspicious sounds, footsteps or chatty voices, she slips the two-sided tape from her electronic's kit on the door's frame to hold it shut in the absense of a working bolt and slips into the hall, closing the door at her back. Schlip. The door sticks to the two-sided tape, giving it the illusion of having closed. And she's still got time to burn. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Conjuring vs TN 4 for "F4 watcher spirit to sic on Lorn.": 1 2 4 5 = 2 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Charisma vs TN 4: 1 3 3 3 3 4 5 = 2 Successes «OOC» Oz says, "Easy swallow. Just want the watcher to watch Lorn?" «OOC» Oz says, "and warn you when he starts heading up?" «OOC» Oz nods. Done and done. 18:32, first break is at 20:00, conference wraps at 22:00 Force 3 Improved Invis «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Sorcery + 2 + 3 vs TN 4 for "<Sorcery+2(Ill Adv)+3SP v/TN4: Improved Invisibility>": 1 1 3 3 4 5 5 5 7 11 = 6 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Willpower + 4 vs TN 4 for "<Drain: (F3 Improv Inv)+1M +4SP v/ 2 or (1/2F3)": 1 1 1 2 3 4 5 9 11 16 = 5 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Stealth: 1 2 2 4 4 5 «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 for "Observers?": 13 «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 3 for "Need SIX successes to see through!": 1 1 3 = 1 Success «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 10 for "Anybody notice that?": 1 1 5 = 0 Successes Nevaeh casts a spell and blanks. She checks the hall with a glance and slips out, guiding the door shut. Like last time, she uses the stairs, but she is more watchful of the to-and-fro traffic this time. It does help that there is a lot of it; the lobby is crowded and the possible threat keeps her sharp. She waits until a couple passes through toward the elevators, watching through that rectangular window, and then slinks through the cracked door to enter the fray. It takes her longer to get from one end of the vaulted foyer than it did last time; moving through the throng is like navigating a labryinth with walls that are constantly shifting, but she accomplishes her goal. At the end of the reception desk, near the swinging gate door, she slips out of sight to catch her breath and then gradually rises to chance a look at the employees at work behind the counter. When an opportunity avails itself, she'll mount the door and try to reach the other side unseen. For the moment, Nevaeh is successful in her re-infiltration of the employee's breakroom. Any one who WAS on break has been called to the front to run one of the three terminals, and the rest of the over-stretched staff are acting as bag couriers. All hands on deck for the sudden surge in guests; Must be a bus or something that rolled in. Either way, she'll have no confrontation back to the break room, and back to the maid uniforms. Nevaeh returns to the locker where she found the just-right uniform before and slips it off the hangar. She takes a moment to roll it neatly into a ball and tucks it under her arm. Prior to leaving, she'll glimpse in the refrigerator. She doesn't really have a reason; call it an instinct. In the fridge? Some poor sod's lunch. Soy meals and noodles all around, with a richie rich actually going out for nukable meat-supplements. Nothing. Oh well, Nevaeh slinks steathily back down the hall. She wants to check the laundry too, so she waits for an opportunity and duckwalks that way. The facility laundry is a rather crowded, hot place; Industrial washers and driers tumble continuously in the constant desire to provide clean, white, fluffy towels, blankets, and other pleasantries to a generally demanding crowd. The smell of harsh chemical soap fills the air, along with the faintly itchy haze of lint. There are two paths between the three rows of stacked machines, with a door at the very back, around a corner. The sign taped on it says, 'Keep this door closed!' Maglocked, of course. Nevaeh has her kit! If the coast is clear, she pinches the uniform between her knees, CAREFULLY cracks open the kit and applies adhesive. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls 4 vs TN 4 for "<Electronics b/r v/4: removing maglock cover — laundry — lobby>": 2 3 3 4 = 1 Success «OOC» Oz says, "60 seconds. Next?" «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls 4 vs TN 4 for "<Electronics b/r v/4: short-circuit laundry in lobby>": 1 1 3 4 = 1 Success «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Dang the bad luck!": 2 = 0 Successes Despite the washers and driers banging away and ruining her ability to hear approaching footsteps, Nevaeh has no surprises. The maglock case falls away, and the wires are crossed; A faint buzz, a soft spark, and the locks retract with a faint 'thump'. The hallway beyond is the tail end of the hotel itself; Opposite of the conferences, obviously where a maid could come get a fresh rack of towels to restock the scullery on the floors. Elevators are back around the corner and down the hall, and another side door leads outside and down a ramp, where a single parking spot exists. For delivery trucks. Getting in and out involves just a guest keypass. Nevaeh slips the maglock casing back on with the temporary adhesive and walks inside. She doesn't tape this door, but props it closed with something suitable, like a container of cleaning solution. If someone comes through and notices, she hopes, they'll be too busy to futz and simply assume a workchit is put in to be completed the next day. She heads down the lobby to the elevators, careful to attend to where bags are dropped off, and — if the coast is clear — heads down the hall to the elevators. Time to go upstairs. The whole mini-adventure cost her about seventeen minutes, all told. From sneaking through the lobby, stealing clothes, and breaking/entering some more maglock doors. All told, she's earned quite a bit of that twenty K already, hasn't she? 18:50 flickers the holodisplay, when she arrives upstairs and in a room. One hour left. Nevaeh heads to her room first. She packs the toolkit and the uniform in her carry-on, ready to take it to Lorn's room. Prior to stepping out, she uses the trid to order a car. Voice instructions: Please have it available by tonight; text (kiosk number) to confirm its arrival. Keep the keys at the desk; I'll pick them up at checkout. In her room, Nevaeh drops the invisibility spell. The message returns, stating the rental car will arrive in ten minutes. Keys will be left with the clerk downstairs. In Lorn's room, she'll placed the Defiance in a drawer by his bed. She'll call the frazzled bar and gently ask the lone, frazzled server to have a bottle of Chianti sent up with two glasses, to be charged to his room. Nevaeh slips her carry-on into the room's small closet, then heads downstairs to collect her keys. She slips away from the desk and heads into the garage. Once she finds the vehicle, she drives it around back, using her keycard to pass her through the gate. 19:20, chianti arrives in a faux silver bucket. Yes, twenty minutes AFTER it was ordered. Service sucks when every one is stretched thin. Made with real grapes, but raised in a synthetic environment; Grapes that have never seen the sun. The elven woman moves quickly through this sequence of events, frequently checking her phone to keep track of the time, and takes the elevator back to his floor. On route to his room, she stop into the scullery. Once the coast is clear, she'll grab the maid's trolley and push it down the hall toward Lorn's room. She'll leave it, two doors back from his, where she hopes it will be commonly dismissed. Inside the room, she'll freshen up, take her jacket off and lay it down overtop the cushion of her chosen seat in the standard room's table for two. As a last step, she'll then go grab the Defiance and tuck it into the folds of the jacket, so its obscured from view. «OOC» Oz says, "Still got your hair to keep your pointed ears hidden?" «OOC» Nevaeh says, "Yes!" 20:06 - Breaktime. A few agonizingly slow minutes after the 8 PM deadline rolls past, Nevaeh's watcher finally materializes; A ghostly, wavering vision, it whispers that the soul she sent it to watch is heading upwards in a dark, dead box filled with dark, dead, moving things. Elevator, more than likely. Nevaeh dismisses the watcher with her thanks and takes a seat, carefully tucking the Defiance under the folds of clotch bunched at her sides. She eyes its location while slowly stands to ensure it doesn't move rom the spot; once she is satisfied the stungun isn't just there, clear as day, for him to see — she reaches for the bottle of Chianti, uncorks it and pours two glasses. A few minutes after the Watcher departs, the door chimes softly and opens under the other keypass possessed by Jonathan Lorn. He pauses as the door opens, taking in the sight of his nightly 'companion' - and a fresh, breathing bottle of chianti. "Worth every nuyen." He smirks. The suit jacket is peeled off and lightly folded before being discarded to the side. The smarmy bastard settling himself across the table like a king at his banquet, briefly shaking out his sleeves. "Good timing?" He asks, as if he didn't know he told her precisely when to be ready for him. Nevaeh strikes tall when she hears the door open and welcomes Lorn with a warm smile. "There you are," she chimes. The woman steps toward her own chair, while keeping her side turned to him, thereby clearing the path to his own seat. When he nears, she pinches the stem of one of the wine glasses and carefully raises it up; when he is sat comfortably, she bends and offers it to him. "You did; I couldn't be sure when you'd come up, but a good escort utilizes her resources. I was cued when you headed to the elevator." She hesitates and reassures him with a smile; when he takes the glass, she circles around his chair to rub his shoulders, "If you're worried about your reputation, I wouldn't. I'm a good tipper and … even if I wasn't. No one who works here is going to run their mouth. You're clearly not a man to be toyed with." "Anyway." An eyebrow quirks; her eyelashes bat. She dips down to nuzzle his neck with a breathy kiss, "How was the conference? Compelling enough to draw you back or … " her eyes roam his body, down and up, in case he catches sight of them in his periphery. Her eyes jump sharply up and turned to meet his while her lips form a devious smile, " … or are you _all_ mine?" The John tilts his neck when she moves around to rub at his shoulders; Slightly tense, which begins to melt away as he tries to puzzle through how she figured he was coming up the elevator. Probably tipped off by one of the registry clerks; Ingenious, really. worthy every nuyen indeed. The stem of the wine glass is taken, and the man immediatly sips from it rather than savoring; Amateur. Everyone knows the first taste should be with the nose, partaking the heady fragrance! "Mm? Almost. Half an hour left until we reconvene, and I give my big speech." A smirk. "Yeah. I'm not a person to mess with at all, am I?" It's a bit of a thrill to have his ego stroked, considering all the 'good works' he's done in his career. A vague circling of the wrist as he speaks. "Better. We've a lot of backers for next year's agenda; One step at a time towards a better tomorrow. Speaking of a better tomorrow.." Lorn tilts his head back, looking from the side of his eyes towards Nevaeh. "Let's talk.. compensation, hmm? For special requests..?" Nevaeh's fingers continue to knead and roll while the heel of her palms press and roll at the common tender spots. She isn't professionally trained, so she isn't attempting anything fancy. "Mm?" Her teeth catch his ear and tug at it playfully when he mentions special requests. "I'm _very_ excited to hear this," she coos, eyes nearly gleaming with mischief. She waggles a brow at him and then slowly retreats from the elbow-bent hover bent which conveniently allowed her to nudge her ample bosom at his shoulders while she worked. A second later, her hands come away after one last brisk stroke at his skin. To talk business, she struts around the table to retake her seat; her movements are deliberately slow, emphasizing the way her hips roll with each swing of her step. She sits, as she did before, by sidestepping in front of the chair and slowly sinking back onto the edge of the seat. "What _fun_ did you have in mind?" she asks, bucking her chin up at him. An eyebrow tips; the devilish smile returns. Lorn closes his eyes, tilting his head when his ear is bitten and tugged. A bite at the lower lip, before he takes a moment to suck in a deep breath and cool his jets a bit - he's in control, here. She's something he bought and will soon pay for. A little fun before he heads back to the pure human society princess he married to play the part of dutiful husband. It's a force of will to keep his gaze level when she slowly struts back to her seat, before he tips the glass up a bit more. And reaches a hand into his jacket, pulling for two small objects. Which rattle like dice, hidden in his palm. "How 'discreet' can you be, mm?" He asks, with a mercurial grin. Before placing his hand upon the table, and opening his fingers. Two fake white tusks - quite realistic in terms of texture and appearance! - rattle to the table proper. She was correct about a potential fetish; She was wrong about which direction it'd take. He has apparently taken no notice of her hidden Defiance taser; Nor her sudden proximity to it. Nevaeh shivers at the sight of the tusks, draws a hand up from the table to shield her lips and even manages to suck in a rattling breath. She has allowed herself to engage mentally with the idea, so her reaction doesn't seem insincere. It would seem she finds the idea tantalizing; when the initial excitement wanes, she lowers her hand gracefully and draws serious. Discreet? "Very," she assures him gently. "A good _whore_, like a shrink or a lawyer, keeps secrets and they have people in their employ who know how to keep secrets too." The woman levels him with a look while her smile revives. "I have a regular who I take into the Warrens; I have people there who I pay to safeguard the warehouse at night. Terrible, scandalous things happen there." She winks, "Its a lot of fun." She shrugs, "Who he is? That he ever crossed the border check? There's no record of even _that_. I have a person for that too." "You are an incredibly important man. You have so many things to worry about. My job is to give you a bit of adventure, real adventure, not that simdrek. That way you can do the important work that … I'm sure you do… having released all that ugly tension and negative energy to the void. Yes?" she grins. "So _whatever_ you like, I will provide. There are no limits." "This … experience… comes at the price of twenty-five hundred nuyen for a night." «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 3 for "I'm up all night to get LUCKY": 4 = 1 Success There it is; That self indulgent interest. The big bad supremist takes a moment to grip his chin, taping at his in thought as his 'whore' goes on to lay out a very enticing 'encounter'. To roll about in the muck like a common flat-headed tusk sucker, with all the dirty, grimy, naughty little bell ringing that comes with it. Twenty five nuyen a night? He's found a new favorite vacation spot. He begins to nod slowly, doing his best to maintain a low expression; Cool and suave, rather than with tongue out panting. Just his LUCK! "Yeah.. yeah, I think I'd like that." He begins a flash of white teeth. "I think I'd like that a lot. But, before we get into all that-" A nod at the tusked teeth on the table. "I've still got a bit. Let's see what I'm buying." It's no longer a game of tit for tat - he's the john, she's the whore, and he intends to get his money worth. «<NOTE TO STAFF: At this point, things get a little erotic until Lorn leaves the room again. I've tagged the break off point with 'NOTE TO STAFF' if you want to 'find' forward» "Mm, yeah?" Nevaeh beams a smile, sinks back in her seat and emits a delighted purr. "Wiz." The excitement reaches her hungrily narrowed eyes, "I really do enjoy my work," she admits with a wink. His question makes her draw a pause. Once again, she turns serious, "While you're finishing your conference, I'll make the arrangements for travel so I know our route — and destination — are secure." Her pursed lips form a mischevious smile while her fingers draw up the layers of her skirt, "Now. In order for me to make this a _really_ amazing night. I have a couple of personal questions." She slumps in the seat while her crossed legs waggle playfully to increase the anticipation of the unveiling. Her toe kicks lightly in the air as her knees seperate and part. Once her stiletto heel nudges the ground, her thighs part like the Red Sea; they splay open, so he can clearly see her glistening honeypot. She knows the business and she freshened up in anticipation of this potentiality. Her skin is moistened with oil and color dabbed at her innermost labia. Not that the typical client would know the tricks of the trade; to him, it might only appear inviting until he has a taste. "Answer honestly," she breathes at him. "I will never judge you; I've seen it all. And, please don't be offended. The answers might be obvious, but its always a mistake to assume." Her eyebrow quirks at him, "Are you dominating or submissive? Do you want me to be the …" one hand drops, so her fingers can glide in across her inner thigh and play in the valley between them, " … innocent girl, taken by surprise. Or the dirty hoodrat who has to do your bidding?" Her head tilts at him; her shoulders thud the back of the chair as her inner back rolls in, thrusting her corset-clutched breasts outward. Whatever else Lorn was expecting, it wasn't this. When her fingers begin to dance up along her skirt, the man leans back in his own seat, elbows on the arm-rests and fingers craddled in front of him. He's only half listening to her as she speaks, his eyes finally sliding downwards, tracing the curve of those thighs. And when they part - a lip caught between teeth again, doing his best to remain 'cool' and 'professional' despite getting hot under the collar. His head tilts slightly, eyes narrowing at the delight, before he glances up. Smirking for a moment before dropping back down, watching her fingers glide with anticipation. "Mm? Dominant.." He begins, before a naughty little smile plays across his face. "A hood rat. Someone who has to do -everything- I say." Legs cross as his pants begin to tent; Cool, cool and suave. He unlaces his fingers, finger-tip to finger-tip as he watches the show, a hungry man shown the very essence of a buffet. Nevaeh's sunken chin bobs above her chest as her head starts to swim. A mental note, 'ears', pops in her head, prompting her to keep all head movement to a minimum. She continues the show, delving deeper, while her fingers claw at the bodice. "When you return, I'll be dressed… appropriately," she pants. Her lips curl, baring her teeth, while her dark eyes narrow to mere slits. "You want me to … get elfy ears or … tusks?" she smiles, but the smiles slips when a sudden jolt of excitement shudders through her body. "Do you like that?" she asks, eyeing him, brow pinched in concentration. That throbbing, quite visible excitement only grows when the target leans forward, heady of the sudden exhibition being put on display for his affection. His fingers curl inward, a tight echo of control as he grips his seat arms. Painfully 'at attention', while she digs and pushes into her inviting depths. "Tusks." He pants, monosyllabic for a moment. "No ears, just.. tusks. A hood rat orkish whore, ready for a proper fucking." Eyes widen as his eyes jump back to her face, watching the expression and dip back down again. The curve of breast, the taut thigh, the sliding, squeezing hand. He licks his lips, and begins to stand up, hands already reaching for his own zipper.. Things are, quite obviously, about to get a bit out of control. Nevaeh catches on that things are escalating too quickly; she extracts her hand, clamps her knees closed and sits up with a shimmey of her shoulders. She presses her joined fingers between her lips, licking them clean, while her eyebrow waggles at him playfully. Tsk. "You don't want to rush it. Savor it. Believe me," she assures him, trotting across the room toward the bathroom where she'll wash her hands, "… tonight is going to blow your mind." Prior to slipping away from view, she turns her cheek and eyes him with a playful smile, "Be a dear and leave the cred on the dresser. Its awkward to bring it up later." She winks, reaches for the bathroom door and whispers, "Good luck with your speech. I'll be waiting." «NOTE TO STAFF: Naughty bits over.» Frustration. BITTER frustration, which - in some weird fashion - just drives the ministry man right up the wall. He stands there, mouth agape for a moment, before closing it with a click. And a smirk. "You dirty little bitch." He murmurs, but it sounds more like a compliment than anything else. When the bathroom door closes, he palms out a cred-stick, setting the account out for twenty five hundred. Easy money after tonight. Adjusting his tie - and adjusting his pants - the man gives one last lustful glance to the bathroom door before heading back out. click. Inside the bathroom, Nevaeh keeps the door securely locked; she switches to astral vision, ensuring the mark has actually left, prior to stepping out herself. The Mark is, well and truly, out of the room. And the twenty five hundrd nuyen stick is laying near the bedstand. Apparently he bought it - hook, line, and sinker. Or should we say, 'hooker', line and sinker? «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Conjuring + 4 vs TN 4 for "<Calling a watcher to peep on Luna. No2. Conjuring +4sp v F3+1>": 2 2 2 3 3 5 10 11 = 3 Successes «OOC» Oz says, "As an aside, spell pool can't be used in conjuring tests or drains. That's strictly the realm of the conjuring skill itself. You can pull dice off of the initial test and use it for the drain, but otherwise it's charisma alone for the drain. And any foci you've got." «OOC» Oz says, "But this isn't a difficult task, so I'm letting it happen. Just for any other DM, dove. :D" «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Charisma + 1 vs TN 4 for "<Drain — watcher no2. charisma+1success v F4 rounded>": 2 3 3 4 5 5 5 5 = 5 Successes Duh-duh dunt! Nevaeh cleans her hands, sighing over her own inexperience, and does her best to shake off the near-miss while her hands roll under the hot air dryer. When she comes out of the bathroom, she dismisses her previous watcher, who is soon at the end of his service obligation, and calls another. "Watch Luna," she shares the image of the man with her astral friend. "Make sure he reaches the conference. Let me know as soon as he leaves." The Watcher fades back into existance - only in Nevaeh's mind, though, not manifesting as a ghostly image on the real plane. With a faint feeling of acquiescence, it fades back to the Astral to track Lorn. Nevaeh changes into the street clothes she brought with her once the watcher is away. Right now, she believes Lorn is downstairs, held to the podium by an obligatory speech, so she hastens to make the most of her time. She goes to the vehicle she previously parked in the back; this time, she takes her packed carry-on along and sets it in the trunk. The woman returns the vehicle to the parking garage, turns on the gridguide and preprograms the address Oz gave her into the autonav. Its only then she realizes, "Fuck." Her expression goes blank except for a dry smirk. "Oh well." She shakes her head, grabs the keys and climbs out of the car. When back in the room, waiting now, she gives Oz a call and explains the plan. "We'll be coming to you. His 'conference' is over at 2200, but I don't know that he'll outstay his hardon. I'll text if there's a time crunch." The Watcher spirit returns only moments after it left, explaining that a very enflamed Lorn had reached the conference. Since it wasn't ordered to listen in on the conversation - which would involve it materializing in a ghostly fashion - it hadn't. Meanwhile, it takes a few rings for Oz to pickup. He sounds amused. "I am surprised the tharon has lasted this long, cerri. Everything is ready here - the manje lwa for met tet awaits this man's blackened spirit. And your payday as well, yes? Ah, yes." "Good." Nevaeh quips, eyeing her reflection in the mirror while her free hand pulls and tugs at the fabric of her constraining street dress. A thought occurs to her a second later, bubbling up to her lips and out her mouth without a thought. "Hoi, do you know where I can get a set of fake tusks? He has a kink." "Ah? No, I have never needed fake hez. I have my own." A rattling laughter. "Though you may look good in them, ah! Give your face a proper look, kurv, to match the body. Perhaps in a joy store?" The phone shuffles a bit, as the houngan walks around. Faint dripping sounds in the background. "So. Soon, yes?" "Soon," Nevaeh answers. "Catch you on the flip side." She jabs the call 'end' button, then uses the kiosk phone to call the lobby; when the receptionist answers, she'll ask if there are any joy stores in the area. «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Luck's a Bitch and so are we!": 4 = 0 Successes The receptiontist - stuttering for once at the unusually bold request - blushingly informs Nevaeh that she is not aware of any joy stores in the area. that it, in fact, is usually outside her normal shopping venue. But that she can check the directory to see if any come up? "Yes, please," Nevaeh answers, blinking her lashes impatiently. Hm. While waiting on the receptionist to check the directory, Nevaeh has another thought. She goes to grab her personal cell and punches a message out to Oz. -----> Text Message to Hez from Luna <----- How long does it take to get there from the hotel? Eventually the front desk calls back, this time a guy. He quietly reads off a list of nearby Joy Stores for Nevaeh - most are within a ten minute drive, but none in the immediate area. Meanwhile, the text from Oz comes back. Slowly. With a few typos, because how is he going to text with one hand besides balancing it on his palm and trying to stretch his thumb? dOnt knoe msybe tenn?/ steaight deive dowm pllat Nevaeh texts back a quick: Kthx. She goes to sit, yanking her skirt down and remembers the Defiance. Drek. She walks it downstairs, held in her hands under a draped jacket, and piles both the jacket and the weapon in passenger seat. The weapon is tucked under, so its not in clear view. She then returns to the room and waits for Lorn to return. The final hour passes quickly, and soon it is 22:05 - and someone is quickly walking down the hall. Someone is in a hurry. Someone looking for their treat, a dog hunting his bone. A john for his tease. There is a faint beep as the door unlocks, and then it begins to open for Jonathan Lorn; A man who looks as if he might explode at any moment, and not in the angry manner. Someone has had a busy imagination. Alerted to his impending arrival by her dutiful watcher, Nevaeh is in the lobby by the elevators when the doors chime and Lorn charges out. She's slunk against the wall, wearing a purple dress with a zipper down the front, while twitching her sin between her fingers. She waggles it up at him and winks, cheeks pinched with a broad closed mouthed smile that conceal maybe tusks. The tips of her ears are still obscured by her hair, but she isn't wearing it the same as she did last time. Now its styled poofily, dropped, shaken out — more like wild bedroom hair. "Hoi," she greets Lorn, bucking her chin up. The elf comes away from the wall with a shrug of her shoulders and saunters toward him, hips checking between her swinging arms with each heel-to-toe swing of her step. She circles around him, thrusting a hand up at the elevator door to keep it from closing, and looks back with a sharp turn of her cheek and a flick of her eyelashes, "A man like yourself would not want to be seen with someone like me — dressed like this — let me go down first. Catch the next one. Meet me down there," she whispers. "Parking space C3." She doesn't wait for a reply or for his inner caveman to come out and drag her into the bedroom; instead, she darts into the elevator, punches a button and winks at the john while the door slides shut between them. Jonathan Lorn - the man with his own bedroom secrets - screeches to a halt when his paid hooker is standing in the lobby in one of the whorest bits of cloth he had laid eyes on in a while. That grin splits the side of his face as he takes a moment to look her down and up, following her with those eyes as she circles around him; It never occurs to him that she's going for the elevator until she's already in it. And with a wink, he manages a quick "Wai-" Ding, doors slide closed. And for the moment, she's on her own as the elevator quickly deposits her at ground floor. In the elevator down, Nevaeh bibbidy bobbidy boo as the elevator drops. She casts improved invisiblity on herself, so she can slip unnoticed through the lobby and into the garage. Once she arrives at the vehicle, she'll check around for any would-be observers and drop the spell if the coast is clear. She'll then crack open the passenger door, ready to jump into the car, with her attention fixed on the entrance to the garage in anticipation of his impending, and impatient, arrival. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Sorcery + 2 + 3 vs TN 4 for "(Improved Inv (Garage) + 2(adv) + 2sp v TN4)": 1 1 2 3 4 4 4 5 5 5 = 6 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Willpower + 4 vs TN 2 for "<Drain (II) +4sp v 1/2F3 r.u.)": 1 1 2 2 3 4 5 7 8 11 = 8 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 vs TN 6 for "Anyone LUCKY enough to be watching?": 2 = 0 Successes The camera in the elevator quietly watches as Nevaeh fades from existence - but apparently no one was monitoring the feed at the time, because she is unmolested as she heads out of the hotel and towards the parking facility. With the car door cracked and ready, she has only but a few minutes to wait for Jonathan Lorn to come out of the hotel. He's rushing, but - at the same time - attempting to not look like he's rushing. Oh, the things he has planned! Oh, the places he will go! In a life time of quiet out-maneuvering interspersed with the sudden chaos of violence, he's come to find he rather enjoys the hectic. And with a body bought and paid for - willing to concede to every perverted wish he has but for a bit of nuyen? It doesn't take him long to lock onto the appropriate spot - and the appropriate woman - with shark like precision. And a flash of teeth as he 'strolls', a bit too quickly. Nevaeh, slinked at the side of the car, backsteps a couple paces when Lorn hastens out of the hotel. Her hand rolls along the top edge of the door; when she feels it reach the end, she rocks back on her heels and stops short. Things are picking up pace, she notes mentally. "Come on. You drive," she tells him, when he gets close enough that she doesn't have to shout. Nevaeh says this and promptly dives into the car; it isn't really a dive, but she is quick to slink inside, collecting her bundled up jacket and gun in her lap, and slap the passenger door shut. Click, she locks the door, keeping her eyes turned expectantly at the drivers side door. After the belts roll into place, securing her body in the seat, she starts queuing up the vehicle's systems while her hand snakes inside the jacket in her lap to find the Defiance. Autonav. Gridguide. Auto-drive enabled. "Damn straight I do." Grins Lorn, as Nevaeh slips into the car. For a moment, he glances about the garage; Checking for anyone he'd know from the conference, obviously. A moment to adjust his tie, adjust a few more bits of his anatomy, and he opens up the driver side door to slide inside. A glance down at the autonav coming into play as he glances over. Possessive. Smirking. A hand reaching across the divide to try and grip her thigh as he hisses. "This had better be everything you promised, tusker." Game on. A night of a little debauchery, screwing some false tusked hooker, and then right back to a life of purity and stand-up-ish-ness. All the better to hold his position. "Mm," Nevaeh cants her head, eyes him and bobs a nod. "Whatever you want." She pulls the handle of the pistol, so it is easily within reach, to the other side of him, where the folds of fabric part. The hand withdraws while he gropes her thigh. "Lay back baby. It's a long drive." She punches the drive button, watches the muted computer announces the destination route. A loud music screams, like one might expect at a club, and once the vehicle clears the garage she manually releases the belts that strap her in. "We gotta make a quick stop for the accessories," she purrs. "But in the meantime, I'm gonna get you off, huh? You been a good boy. You deserve it." Her turned-in shoulders wiggle playfully, so her sunken cleavage dips and waggles. "Pull out that fragmeat, so I can gag on it." "Yeah. Yeah, you better wrap down tight, slitch." Murmurs the man, grinning like a cat. Eyes are locked on cleavage, on fingers, on lips. His fumbling hands eventually find the seat controls, and the back-end begins to whirr back to a predefined position. Auto-nav's good enough for most things, after all, as his hands fumble at his own pants. Hidden buttons may keep unsightly bumps from showing up and ruining the symmetry of a well pressed pair of slacks, but they are a bitch to get loose in a hurry, especially with a rather full mast doing it's best to press through the layers of cloth. If he notices the handle of the Defiance - he hasn't said anything yet. As the street lights begin to flash overhead, he finally manages to get the button loose and pull the zipper down. «OOC» Nevaeh will take the shot while he is messing with his zipper. «OOC» Oz grins. Sounds solid. Let's get a +init up for rule's sake. You've got the first surprise round. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Initiative with a result of 11. «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 1 for "+4 Init": 3 «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939)'s nevaeh's carried equipment (#3871) has the Voucher Item 4 Defiance Super Shock with the following information: ----------—[ Shadowrun Denver ]- ===================> Item 4 on nevaeh's carried equipment <==================== Item Name: Defiance Super Shock Item Type: ITEM Quantity: 1 Fractional OK: No Clonable: No Players Can Link: No Created For: Nevaeh (#10939) Created By: Rando (#1923) IC Location: Carried -----> Description for Item <------ The most popular taser weapon in service with the UCAS law enforcement agencies, the SS packs side-by-side heavy darts. Standard issue pistols have integral low-light imaging scopes (top mount). — SR3 277. (with Shock Weapons on SR3 124.) -----> GM Notes for Item <-----— Jan 13 04:17 Conceal 4, Ammo 4(m), Mode SA, Damage 10S(stun), Weight 2kg, Avail 5 / 24 Hours, Cost 1000, SI 1, Legality 6P-E. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Pistols + 4 vs TN 4 for "<Target: Lorn. Pistols + 4 CP v TN4>": 1 2 3 4 4 5 5 11 = 5 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 10 for "10D staged up by 4 successes (4/2 armor, impact is halved by shock)": 1 1 1 = 0 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 10 for "Karma 1/4": 1 2 5 = 0 Successes «Auto-Judge[]» Oz (#9314) rolls 3 vs TN 10 for "Last chance saloon": 1 2 3 = 0 Successes Mmhm, Nevaeh raises an eyebrow at the remark he makes about her 'getting on it tight'. "You know I will." While Lorn fights his zipper, one hand grabs the Defiance while the other shirks away the jacket, throwing it over his eyes. While he scrambles, throwing his hands up to grab it, she'll thrust the pistol at his straped in midbody and fire. Having never actually fired a stungun before, Nevaeh is somewhat startled by the zzzzRGGzzzzRRGG noise, which seems to go on FOREVER, and then the GGGGAAAAAAH her would-be john emits. She is even MORE freaked out by the all of a sudden silence that follows the electric injection. "Frag," the elf breathes, tossing the gun into the passenger side wheelwell. She brings her knees up, so she's kneeling in the seat and quickly peels the jacket away from his face. "What do I do—" she panics. A bit, slaps his cheek, dabs her fingers at his neck. That's what they do in the trid. "Frag." She slow blinks, looks around. Oh! Duh! Having clued in, she sinks back on her heels and assenses his aura. «Auto-Judge[]» Nevaeh (#10939) rolls Intelligence vs TN 4: 1 2 3 4 5 7 = 3 Successes Jonathan Lorn is quite alive, although his aura is muted from unconsciousness; Getting a closer look at his aura shows that there's some dark splotches along his forebrain and his eyes - expensive bits of cyberware, that. Especially since they appear to realistic. But, otherwise, he remains alive and in good health. Though quite a radiating bit of pain from around his mid-body. Nevaeh unfurls her legs and drops back into the seat, heaving a sigh of relief. She drops a shoulder, so she can snake a hand into the pocket of her jacket and grabs her cellphone. Its passed hand to hand, so she can then dip and take the Defiance to retrain on the slumbering credstick. "In route," she says, speaking outloud to no one; the voice-to-text message is destined for Oz. "He's taking a nap." The affirmation comes a few moments later from Oz's phone: A brief 'KK'. The car continues to head smoothly south towards the curve of highway 285, but far away from where any sort of on-ramp connects. Buildings in southern Az begin to slowly run down, becoming smaller and more crowded as afluence seeps away. Before long, the grid-guide beeps as it leaves an area it can draw direction from, and pulls over to the side. But it looks like Nevaeh may be close enough after all; For a ghostly figure fades into semi-parency, a watcher with the form of some strange totem; Snake skull and single roving eye. The eye widens, and it disappears again. Eventually, from the tunnel formed between the overpass and the necessary space for the flowing river to the west of Platt comes a particular houngan. Grinning that broken tusked grin. Nevaeh stiffens when the car slows to a humming stop, but she notes the location fits the vague description he gave. Or, at least, there is an overpass and a tunnel. When she finally sees Oz, she is quick to jump from the proverbial hotseat. She hooks her jacket over her arm and cracks open the door; when she emerges, she turns her cheek and looks to Oz expectantly while she trots around the swung open door. The rhythmic clipclop of her heels echo eerily through the empty street. When she slaps the door shut, the loosely slung jacket threatens to slip away, causing her arm to jump. In frustration, she thrusts the coat and her weapon to the hood of the car. "Well?" She swings a step back and circles to face him while her hands jerk up, groping her tangled hair into a ponytail. "How we doing this?" The houngan glances aside, that dark little smile crossing his face again. That gaze shifts back to the car, as he steps around to open up the passenger's side, taking a squat to get a good look at Lorn. His right hook coming up to turn the man's face this way and that, leaving a slight red smear; Not the man's and not Oz's. Finally, he'll answer the moon shaman. "This part is mine, cerri." Shoulder shifts, that wicked hook catching and snipping through the seatbelt. The large, broken toothed tusker pulling the man out and hoisting him over a broad left shoulder, hand curled around his waist as he takes a moment to balance. Then flashes a broad grin. "Unless your godling takes the manje lwa? If so, I can set a place for it." A pause, and a tilt of the head. "I had hoped to see the hez on you, ah? It would fit well." A startling laugh. Nevaeh watches wearily, head craned, as Oz slices through the vehicle's belts and drags Lorn from the vehicle. She upnods at him and gives a circling look around, "Wiz." She waits for him to be free of the door and quickly closes it again. "I gotta jam." It seems she doesn't feel safe, having done what she just did, being northwest of her hood. As she trots around the car, she keeps her eyes turned at the unhappy couple, "I'll wear a pair to 'dinner'. Have fun catching up." "Ah! Yes. I will bring your nuyen soon, once I have performed the manje lwa for met tet, yes?" Laughs the houngan, as he begins walking back towards the impromptu holding place beneath the overpass. Taking a moment to glance over his shoulder and wink. "I will not be that hungry, I think, so a small dinner for me." That same dark chuckle as he continues to walk, Lorn's arms swinging left and right as they droop down the ork's back. A rather finale pendelum clock. Somewhere in the darkness under the highway pass, the hook ripped and pulled into the meat. This was not blood magic; This was manje lwa, feeding the Loa. Uztol Esno - Oz - would not dare take the meal from his Master's mouths. And, of course, the manje lwa began with the sacrifice being alive. The loa were gods of flesh and sinew; They would take nothing less on their fires and their cuts. The feet to Azaca, fleet and sure. The tongue to Damballah, to keep secrets safe The eyes to Obatala, to watch over his people The hands to Ogoun, to fight the injustice The loins to Erzulle, for a woman's way The limbs to Legba, to straighten his back The lungs to Shango, a thunderous noise The blood to Agwe, who swims in deep waters The skull to Ghede, the met tet and patron. But the heart. The heart was for the houngan, who savored the sweet meat of his people's enemy most of all.