Public Roots Radical [Darkwire / Open Social]

[Beltran Rarr]

Location: Denon, The Dragon's Palace
Objective: Secure a meeting with a Darkwire Representative
Tagging: Hacks

Beltran sipped his drink, a very old Corellian bourbon served neat, and closed his eyes to let the vibrations of deep bass flow through him. The wanton defiance that the music spoke to reminded the Lorrdian of his younger days when he was just some tatted-up street gangster rolling down the street in a tricked out speeder, off to blast on some punk Vultures. That was before he'd met Vincente and his father, before they'd taken him in and molded him into the perfect killing machine. It was before it had all gone wrong and he'd been forced to run.

There was something almost beautiful in the innocence that that kind of defiance had. A kind of hope that had not yet been dashed by a galaxy that thrived on domination. The Sith didn't try to dress it up, at least. They called it what it was, the powerful dominate and the weak are dominated. The Jedi weren't any different, not really. They talked a good game, and Beltran truly believed that they truly believed what they were saying. But when push came to shove, they cared about one thing: Being on top.

That was fine with him. He didn't fight for them because he believed their dogma. He fought for them because at least under them there could be a semblance of freedom, if for no other reason than the fact that for the Jedi to truly meddle in the affairs of their citizens. To do that, they'd have to take a break from patting themselves on the back for a moment and Beltran placed better odds on a Gamorrean winning the Togorian marathon. Also, he'd managed to finagle several very lucrative contracts between them and Obsidian Star. So lucrative that he wouldn't even miss the fortune he'd handed the bouncer to get in here.

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the air shift as two beings came to stand next to him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up at the large armored figure with the cybernetic legs. Beltran too was a cyborg. His body having been implanted with a whole array of implants against his will. The exact nature of them had eluded the doctors on Kashyyyk, but he suspected that they had played a part in keeping him alive during the Battle of Kintan, where he had sustained wounds that would have killed a normal man ten times over.

But finding an answer to that question wasn't why he was here.

He didn't react to the obvious way the man's hands rested on his weapons. It took a little more than that to rattle Beltran Rarr. Instead he turned his gaze to the woman who stood near him. The one with four arms who introduced herself as Hacks . "Nice name," He told her, extending his own hand to shake hers. "My name is Beltran." He continued. "Don't worry, I don't expect you to know who I am." He slowly reached inside his jacket, opening it enough as he did so to show that he wasn't going for a weapon, and produced a black flimsi business card with the Obsidian Star logo on one side, and an encrypted com channel on the other. Beyond those two items there was no other identifier. No name, no job title, nothing. "But you might know me better as Obsidian Star."

Anyone who knew Denon knew Obsidian Star. They were one of the premier arms companies on the planet and their headquarters, known as The Spire dominated the landscape of this sector of the planetary city. "Anyway, I've been off world attending to other business, but I've heard word of your exploits and I have to admit I'm impressed. I wanted to come in and introduce myself, perhaps see if there was some way that we could help each other. Preferably before any of you started eyeing my interests and forcing us to meet under less...pleasant circumstances."

 

[Orron Typho]

"About the party. Thoughts?" He looked her up and down. She wore attire not dissimilar from anyone else in the room. Black suits were the staple of this casino so he figured she had business much like everyone else. What that business was he didn't know. "What brings you here?"

Shira Varanin

 

[Christine Dellard]

​

''It's about to go down!''

The nautolan boy's firm statement and enthusiasm got Chris to smile bright and widely and offer him a high-five, or rather a low-five considering their height difference. With the same anticipating and happy smile, she looked over at Glade and gave her a fist bump.

The club's constant buzz from quests suddenly went a little quieter, as the playback electric music in the speakers through the club were faded out. It was their que to walk up on stage, time to give the patrons tonights live entertainment. Chris confidently took the lead up, closely followed by Zak and Glade. The crowd that had already gathered in front cheered loudly and raised their glasses, filled to the brim with whatever poison that they prefered, as the group entered the stage. Of course, free drinks came with the gig and outside the payment, and Chris had sunk a corellian brandy backstage to help her get into the right mood. Not that she needed it, but it followed by old customs. She was a hopeless cafaholic otherwise, but she draw the line past a certain hour, an hour that was long gone by now.

The spotlights lit them up brightly as they took their initial positions on the stage. Chris approached the microphone that stood in the middle and close to the edge of the stage. The crowds cheer intensified and she greeted them with a sweet and wide grin.

''Alright, Dragon Palace! How're we doing tonight?!'' she started the little monologue to establish a connection with the crowd. ''We're the De'rifts, and together with you lovely people we're gonna lift the roof of this place! I'm Chris Dellard, and together with me tonight is the wonderful Glade on co-vocals and drums! Boys, she's got a voice to melt your hearts! On my other side is Zak Dymo on bass, the short nautolan with the biggest sound this side of the Core Worlds!'' she continued to the instigative cheers from the crowd.

''We're gonna go easy on you for this first song... Some of you might already had it broken, some of you haven't... Don't let it go to that! This is... Edge of a Broken Heart!'' she called out and introduced their first song.

The playback synthesizers initiated the song, followed by the drum beat from Glade, Chris on guitar and Zak on bass soon followed and the lyrics kicked off with Chris and Glade going on vocals.

''I can't believe I could have been so blind, but love is strange
I thought about it for a long long time, but the truth remains
I don't need another lonely night to dry my tears
The answer's plain as black an' white and I can see the picture very clear...''​

Spoiler: Edge of a Broken Heart

Anyone, even the most uninterested in music could read their passion for what the group did. Chris stroked the guitar strings like she haven't done anything else since she were born, and the same could be said about members Zak and Glade. The group handled their respective instruments with great skill and put on a show worthy the stage of the Dragon Palace II.

Chris lead them through the song, and at set points alternated the vocals with Glade. When Glade took over, Chris kept herself mobile and proudly walked around on stage all while letting the sweet sound from her electric guitar leading them on. She made a stop by Glade and reveled in her drumbeat and lovely voice, then rounded and joined Zak to let the two string instruments play along side by side. There was much more to a performance than just the sound. Interacting with the crowd and showing your passion for the instrument was just as important.

As one of the instrumental parts of the song came, Chris walked up to the edge of the stage and placed a foot on a speaker, meeting the crowds cheer and joined in their dig along with the hot beat. With a broad bright smile, she swung that blonde hair around an put on a sharp solo, going deep down to the last frets of the guitar.

Spoiler: Solo 03:30 - 04:00

The final note were played and Chris nocked back with the head and pulled the wild hair back out of her face (Never a tidy hair on stage. Ever.), panting slightly from the little workout that was performing live. The crowds cheer intensified and she took a casual bow before extending an arm gesturing back to Glade and Zak, directing the crowds satisfaction and appreciation to the whole group. Now that they had got the heat up in themselves, the crowd and the whole ambience of the Dragon', it was time to continue with the next number. She re-connected with Zak and Glade, throwing a smiling glance at Zak. The little nautolan knew what to do.

Glade Zak Dymo Hacks

 

[Shira Varanin]

Orron Typho

"Not sure I see a party, just a couple hundred people drinking alone. Band's good though."

The barkeep slid her a shot of Bakuran namanaquila. Shira downed it and felt the burn.

"As for what I'm doing here, just curious. Cloud City feels a little too straightjacketed bureaucratic some days. I didn't realize this scene would click as hard as it did. You?"

 

[Orron Typho]

"I'm celebrating a job well done. I expected to get caught, but now I'm drinking right under the nose of the people I've been stealing from. It feels pretty good, but truth be told I'm hoping to find another job tonight. I don't like sitting around and I figure most people in here are in my line of work."

As he told his story to Shira Varanin, the bartender placed his drink on the counter. He took hold of the glass and brought it to his lips. Smelled like home. Of course the rum would never be as good as it was on Scarif nor would the fruit be as fresh, but the tropical taste was a momentary escape from Denon.

The band played loud and excitedly while people danced in the center of the room. Typho eyed over the dancers. Not quite his cup of tea, but they brought so much energy to the room.

 

[Zak Dymo]

[ the base line ]
​

"On my other side is Zak Dymo on bass, the short Nautolan with the biggest sound this side of the Core Worlds!''

Throwing a hand up in the air, Zak put two fingers overhead in the classic horn symbol that had come to be associated with rock. Then, with a flourish, gestured out toward the crowd as he took a bow.

The opening synth note dropped. Zak put his hands together in an exaggerated fashion, stepping from side to side as he did, encouraging the audience to do the same. Then, putting his hands back on the bass, the boy's hands became a flurry of both motion and energy. The opening riff only required him to play three cords, but the transitions were happening quickly.

The thumb of his right hand was tucked against the top chord, muting the reverberations from top B chord as he started to strum and pick. The fingers of his left hand were curled, sliding up and back and down and across the neck of the slender instrument. As he hit one of the notes, he rotated his fingertip against the board, producing a vibrato, before sliding up to the next note.

Once they were out of the riff, Zak pretty much took a backseat. The song was pretty much a simple melody from the bass perspective. Christine Dellard had all the flourishes. He was either playing the E, A, or D chords. With the root note being the A.

...seriously, for a large part of the song, Zak was just strumming the A chord over and over and over.

Which wasn't to say that it was boring. Quite to the contrary. Zak rather enjoyed the opportunity to shift to something less chaotic than the guitar. There was no floor pedal. He wasn't having to adjust any toggle switches on the fly. He'd just stand here, strum this A chord, and take in the energy from the crowd.

Through the Force, Zak was aware of the people on the stage with him. He was synchronizing his timing with theirs without even being conscious of it. Glade was putting down some vocals to support Christine, and the boy was back to shifting through a series of notes.

His head-tails whipped from side to side, another finger rotating the string against the board to produce a vibrato, before sliding down to hit that root note.

And then it was over.

Standing under the heat of the stage lights, the boy had already broken into a light sweat. Then he saw Christine look over him, and she seemed to be looking for someone to take him into the next set.

Reaching up, the boy took a moment to reach over with his right hand and adjust the tone knobs on the bass. Then, returning his fingers to pick the strings, rapidly ripped out a bass rendition of what was likely a very clear indicator of what he was leading them into.

 

[Shira Varanin]

Orron Typho

The namanaquila had been dang good, and she was tempted to get another if the thief - apparently - was paying. She didn't. A couple drinks too many and she'd start making...mistakes.

"You just might be getting lucky tonight. In the looking for a job department, I mean. Tell me about your last one - who, what, when, where, why?"

 

[Orron Typho]

Typho chuckled at Shira Varanin's choice of words. "Weeeeellll... It started about a week ago. The job description wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it turned sour pretty fast. I've been flying between Denon and Corellia, mostly, since Darkwire's got the goods that the Republic wants and neither CorpSec nor the Republic want those goods anywhere but Denon. I really hadn't expected them to hassle me as much as they did, but I'm here now with credits in my pocket. Still don't know who hired me or payed me, but that's not uncommon when you run with the same people as me."

He took another swig of drink before he continued taking, "The people here are different. Out on the fringe, everyone's just tryin' to make a cred. We all understand that and we look out for one another. Here, I can't tell who's in the government, who's doing what business, and who's a criminal. Its hard to separate friend and foe." Typho stared directly into her eyes, "What can I call you?"

 

[Shira Varanin]

Orron Typho
"I'm used to the Outer Rim too. That tension, that explains a lot about how isolated a lot of these people feel." Shira tapped her temple, hinting at telepathy, empathy, or more general Force affinity. "It's a whole different mood, for good and ill."

Her eyes narrowed fractionally, an evaluating sort of look. A smile took the edge off it. That namanaquila shot had a few suggestions about the rest of the night.

"Shira. Shira Varanin. You?"

 

[Orron Typho]

"Orron Typho, usually just Typho. I wasn't expecting someone else in this room to share any sentiment with me."

He downed the last of his rum. "So Shira, what piqued your interest in Denon?"

Shira Varanin

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

​

Natasi would have been appalled, self-appointed Moff. It wasn't earned. Ariel swore she could hear Natasi as if she was standing right there. The young woman had taken her own personal transport and avoided all of the Confederacy's space. Her ship needed was in dire straits and she needed a drink. Ariel had given her guards and the pilot shore leave as well. It was a long trip up toward Sith space and they were going the long way around. She wanted to stop by Galidraan and pay her cousin a visit. The Mausoleum had its keepers but still, the woman yearned to speak with her cousin again. Ariel's thoughts tormented her, as she went back and forth in her mind.​

​

Denon had changed a lot over the years, she could scarcely recall when it was once a Republic stronghold, now no longer. Ariel felt tremendous guilt over the idea of appointing herself Moff. Who was going to appoint me? Mhmm? Whom? You? You're dead. She felt a surge bitterness crawl through her spine it pooled at the bottom of her throat like a poisonous ichor. Our capital bleeds, Natasi, bleeds. These so-called Dosuun Hegemony sycophants have long taken advantage of Avalonia's desperation and I will not tolerate it.​

​

Rain pelted the tinted viewport, a crack of thunder overhead and still, Ariel was lost in her thoughts. The shuttle ride was quiet from the starport as it crawled through traffic. The evening seemed darker than most, and Ariel slunk further into her seat. Again she swore Natasi was there sitting right next to her as if she were plain as day, there are ways to handle these things, but this? This is not one of them. How dare you use my name for your so-called plan. My name, Ariel. Mine. I should have expected it, honestly, you are Fiolette's child.​

​

Ariel's teeth began to grind against one another, so? I am a murderer, I've lied, I've covered the crimes of others. All of this is quite damning, but perhaps - perhaps, my dear cousin. It should be noted that I think can live with it. I would do it again, I would do it all over again. Do you know why Natasi? A guilty conscience is a small price to pay for the safety of Dosuun, so I will learn to live with it. I can live with it, I have to.​

​

It was only now that Ariel realized that there had been a reason why her cousin kept the good liquor tucked away. Why it was easily accessible in her office at Number 10. She shut her eyes and suppressed whatever sickening feeling had decided to make itself known. Her mind went directly to that day in Prosperia where she had shoved the man off the highest floor in the building. She watched his eyes, the panic, the desperation. Ariel had turned away and approached the others that day, just as his body hit the ground. He had been made an example, an example of what she would do to the corrupt bureaucrats who sat lining their pockets while Dosuun bled, and starved to death. Still, she would do it again - she would shove him out of that window, again and again, if she had to.​

​

The shuttle pilot's voice broke her thoughts and brought her back to reality. The neon lights of commercialism surrounded her now, she paid the man in credits and disembarked. One of these days, Ariel thought to herself, she ought to invest in getting a minder - she could use the therapy. For now, her therapy consisted of heading to places like the Dragon Palace II. Ariel knew of it only by name but it seemed to be where all the action would be taking place. It was according to the records she was able to procure, one of the old Red Raven strongholds. A faction name so old that it prompted more war stories out of her mother than she bargained for.​

​

Indeed - the news of Darkwire had reached the Unknown Regions, it even made the news for the Avalonian Broadcasting Network. Although it was not their exploits that had necessarily been a key factor. No, tonight, it was less about deals and more about feeling - or rather numbing them. Ariel was certainly dressed for the part of party-goer, at the least. Another thing her cousin would be appalled by, and would probably wonder if the young woman was even wearing anything. ​

​

Down the narrow streets, with her arms tucked into her jacket Ariel Yvarro managed her way toward the Palace. Bouncers would check her name and she would give them plenty extra on the funds. Money had a way of getting her to where she needed to go, and at the very least her mother's and step-mother's money were good for something. Quietly Ariel headed into the Palace, where music thumped so loud that it had a tendency to drown thoughts where they stood. The neon lights were just bright enough in an otherwise dim and dark club, and she made her way toward the bar with the goal of getting lost. ​

​

Daiya | Shira Varanin | Orron Typho | @Darkwire​

 

[Hacks]

As the man turned to look at Hacks, her eye twitched, sending a neural command to her glasses and they scanned his face. Beltran introduced himself and a stream of data fell across her glasses. Her eyes darted momentarily, soaking in the information for the briefest of moments. "I know who you are," she said almost absent-mindedly as though her mind was elsewhere, her eyes were telling enough. She was reading something on her glasses, unseen to him but visible to her. Birth certificate, orphanage registration, legal troubles as a kid. Ravens, she chuckled, she was once a Red Raven herself. Could it be? no, she dismissed the thought quickly. More legal troubles as an adult. Interesting.

She blinked and the feed vanished from her view, she looked lost for a sudden and quickly mentally readjusted. Her interest piqued at the mention of Obsidian Star and the Spire. Oh, that's him, she thought, yikes. Darkwire was close to plying a contract from an undisclosed offworld corporation to sabotage Obsidian Star interests on Denon, primary target being the Spire. The contract was frozen indefinitely. Hacks smiled, this made things very interesting. "So what do you want," she asked bluntly, four arms crossed against her chest. The Hammerhead bounty hunter remained silent, still.

Beltran Rarr

 

[Glade]

Glade’s voice came in “lonely night,” and out supporting with backing vocals or carrying through their opening song on cue. “On the edge”, she was loosening up from her own edge, tension leaving her arms and the drums really got underway, the orange warmth and softer fresnel light at the back of the stage framing her tempo at a steady burn. Once or twice when she was free for it, there was a runaway drum solo for a few seconds, rustling home to end with a fast full stroke roll of her sonic cymbal.

Zak kept them together, steady and grounded. Christine fired up the crowd with her performance to woo’s and cheers like nobody else could, while Glade added some gladeification tm to artsy things up. That electric fire of being on stage Never. Got. Old. Even as their first song came to an end she was buzzing, and if they looked around before kicking off again into Zak’s lead, the Bith on their lights gave them a flash of golden hazers, visible light beams to echo the end of the first act, dancing around the trio in a diamond effect. The light show flipped with the next song, coming outward toward the crowd and faded, all performance to keep the club-goers engaged, the show nothing without them.

They'd also see one happy Kiffar girl! Grinning back at them both. Her body in that hoverchair almost moved like it was free of it, lost in the show, happy to be there.

“All that night all the next, swam without looking back….” Glade’s bubbly voice backed up Christine holding her note and pitch, adding backing to Christine's leads. Zak leading them into the next act had started the lightshow into an ellipsoidal reflector, a wavy effect like the light was a flame on the wall flickering upward looking for attention to set alight. Glade’s drums became a double strong roll, bouncing off to create a kickback which got the Kiffar’s own hair kicking back, and freeing her face for the first time, golden highlights under eyes and gold lipstick fit for the stage.

Tags: Christine Dellard | Zak Dymo | @Party People!

 

[Shira Varanin]

Orron Typho

"I hear that. I wasn't expecting a lot of things. Like, feth, the band just went full glam."

She was feeling the lack of a drink, but this felt like a good night to remain in possession of her faculties.

"Darkwire's what pulled me. Good business to be had for one thing, but mostly I just felt the need to be around people who understood a part of me that doesn't get much resonance in the Rim." She held up and flexed a metal hand. "For example."

 

[Beltran Rarr]

Location: Denon, The Dragon's Palace
Objective: Secure a meeting with a Darkwire Representative
Tagging: Hacks

If Beltran was surprised by Hacks ' reaction, he gave no sign of it. Instead, he let her look him up, opting to take another sip from his Bourbon. He'd fully expected her to check his background, and she would find what everyone would find-all the stuff that he didn't care about hiding. His history on Lorrd, his criminal entanglements and his service history with the Antarian Rangers. A few credit accounts, each containing a modest fortune if the woman were to be so crass as to rob him, would also be available-though all of them combined would be nowhere near his true net worth. In addition, she would be able to see the directory listing for the com channel he'd provided her. It had no name attached to it, only the cryptic moniker "Senior Vice President of Operations."

None of the documents that named Beltran the true owner of Obsidian Star had ever been copied to an electronic medium. They were ink and flimsi, copied and notarized and secreted away in a number of dead drops throughout the galaxy. So too it was with the majority of his fortune, which he kept in hard currency.

While she scanned him, the large armored man loomed over him. Beltran only paid him the slightest of attention, like he was a non-issue. He'd only come here with a light blaster pistol, which he had concealed in a clip-on holster on his waist at the back, and a basic vibroblade he had stuffed in a sheath in his boot. Nothing fancy or expensive, in case the bouncers at the front had thought to check him, but enough that he could make himself a nuisance if he needed to.

But he hoped that this conversation wouldn't go down that way.

"What I want," He replied simply when she asked. "Ideally, is to establish a partnership. In essence, I want to join. Through me, Obsidian Star can provide Darkwire with weapons, armor, droids and starships, all at a highly discounted rate as well as make our considerable R&D and manufacturing capabilities available to you. In exchange, you agree not to act against us. That means our operations, employees and assets are off limits. And your group would have access to my not-so-inconsiderable skill set should you need it. I'm sure you've managed to access at least some of my service history with the Antarian Rangers, so you know that I'm not exaggerating when I say that I could be a very useful ally to have."

He paused for a moment before added, in the same flat tone as before. "Or a very dangerous enemy."

 

[Mr Black]

Tags: Hacks | Ariel Yvarro

Hacks

Well the corp-dogs most bald, most heavily armed, most senior apex-security member gave the punks outburst a returned look of blank steel indifference. Whether he was one of the aforementioned HRD’s became very apparent. “Play nice.” Black instructed the protection detail, “we are all friends here.” The HRD’s didn’t need telling but half the bar pausing as they came in, had put some of the regular rent-a-cops on edge. They had been invited.

Selane chuckled, “you bring me to the friendliest places.”
“And you say I don’t care,” he winked and they parted ways, her sighing.

Arriving at the bar alone to mingle and get lost in his own way. No matter how frosty the reaction, there were deals to be done. These ‘corp dogs’ were here to find a bone to chew on, preferably a big contract with this up and coming darkwire powerhouse, at least before his competitors rubbed him out of contention.

Ariel Yvarro | @Darkwire

“Shesharilian vodka, neat.” Black asked the bartender, who though not as outright hostile, still seemed to hold him in more contempt than he’d expected. Used to it, he’d been the black sheep of his entire family all his life, pun intended. Why change a good thing. Tonight was off to a cracking start...

...But…. then she walks in, and he wasn’t the only one that noticed. His eyes looking to her, then the bar, then back to her. Not hiding his interest very well or able to.

Raising his clear glass to Ariel Yvarro as she approached. Pure liquid that would tug to make you inhale from just one drop if you weren't used to it, he was, and yet he had inhaled without drinking. Black leaned over, whispering something to the bartender, suit folding against the armor underneath. Ariel was punctually presented with a drink the very second she arrived at the bar, a crystal glass of fine full-bodied luxurious theenwine.

“To your health, Miss...?” his own glass raised in toast. Giving a smile, and waiting to see if she accepted before he drunk his own. Unknown to him perhaps they'd meet their hosts together. For all he knew she was the one he was here to meet, and this was the start of their negotiations.

 

[Orron Typho]

"Well these people certainly seem like your people, perhaps we could help each other find something to do, or help each other relax" he smirked. "I'll be honest, I've never become acquainted with a cyborg, and now they're all I see here. Do you have any leads on work?"

Shira Varanin

 

[Ariel Yvarro]

​

Not two seconds into the club and Ariel was already the target of a creeper. She immediately turned the drink away, never trust a drink. She'd seen what drinks from men did to people, let alone young women out in a club on their own. Predators lurked in every corner, and so when he raised his glass, Ariel turned around. She found a few other people at the opposite end of the bar, Shira Varanin and Orron Typho not that she knew them any better than the man Mr Black but they seemed to be the safer option. ​

​

Hopefully, the creeper took the hint. She saddled up to the bar somewhere besides the woman. Ariel took a glance at the drink selections and was pleasantly surprised, "an Atomic Varunda, make it a double on the brandy." Ariel hadn't seen an Atomic Varunda beyond a few cocktail bars past Varada Five. "Thank you, um, currency?"​

​

"GC's fine." The barkeep responded and Ariel was more than happy to slip him her chip. ​

 

[Mr Black]

Vodka went back sharply, icing the back of his throat to match that stare. Not even a what? Or Who takes drinks from strangers they just met? What is the galaxy coming to when you don’t get a hell no? He touched his heart like he’d been shot through it, and turned back to the bar.

The barman gave him a raised eyebrow, cleaning a glass. “Well I sure as kark ain’t asking you.” He raised the other eyebrow, “Better make it a double.” For that he got a sigh. Tapping the bar with the glass and sliding it along the surface, it was caught by a HRD.

“Problems?” He scratched his eyebrow with the next shotglass.

The HRD stood there as HRD’s do and gave him a steel-faced expression, framed by their usual almost human mask.

“We’ll play twenty questions in a minute. You just stand there looking… ” he waved his hand “humble.”

Ariel Yvarro

 

[Shira Varanin]

Ariel Yvarro got a glance, just a situational awareness thing that took in her general look of being, well, rich. Not ostentatiously, but still. The black jacket alone could have bought Shira another implant.

For better or worse, Orron Typho had the bulk of Shira's attention.

"Can't stay out too late with you, Typho. I've got work in the morning."

A flat-out lie brought on by a confluence of factors: namely, the conflicting facts that she didn't pick up other sapients in bars, but was perilously close to doing so.

She caught the edge of his coat, rubbed it between metal thumb and forefinger.

"But we could get out of here, hook you up with that job."