Your flirtatious riposte is well received. The playful paramour feigns indignation while his friends break out in another round of laughter that drowns out the clinking of their cocktail glasses.

Wouldn’t you know? It’s just like your sister to try and get in on the fun. All is fair when there are bills to pay as they say...

Cut from the same flirty and freewheeling cloth, neither of you have made a habit of trying to find someone to settle down with.  Since your both not looking for anything permanent, it’s probably pretty common for you both to play ball in the same diamond. Unless you want to be territorial, it’s all in good fun and no one ever takes it too seriously...

...well, there was that one time.  Arden. But you two don’t talk about Arden.

”Spring semester is over,” she squeals, throwing shapely arms over her head in celebration.  ”Just waiting on final exam marks, but I’m not worried.  Undergrad senior year was so much harder than first year grad school. No fun after summer break though, next year will be a real buzzkill”

”And what is it you study?” Kishimoto asks, eyes, like a kid in a candy store, flicking back and forth between the two of you.

”Oh,” she says with a conspiratorial wink and a light touch on his upper arm, ”Magic darling. I’m a mage.”

"She's studying to be a mage. Right now she's an... Apprentice? I think she mostly mops things. There's a whole movie about it," Bailey says, her weight still settled on her date's shoulder. Leaning forward gently, as her fingers brushed against the back of Kishimoto's head. He was fine, but now that Jo was here? The competition was half the draw. And probably all of the draw for her sister.

The pair were always trading boys, and barbs. Bailey knew, on some level, that both of them thought the other one was the favorite, the successful one, the one everyone loved. But that couldn't stop her from being jealous of Jolene, who everyone knew would be a big success, the talented mage and successful student.

"All the boys down in Palo Alto must be lonely, with you here in the city. Staying with Mom and Dad?" she ribs, as she pulls another chair closer with her foot. "Jojo doesn't have her own place. No job. Though it's funny. She's the one who always wanted to be a model."

Yeeesh.  Elven sibling rivalry.  You two will be at this for a century or more.

Kishimoto leans back into you, clearly enjoying your attention. Meanwhile Jolene trails her hand down his arm slowly and leaves it resting on his forearm.

”Haha...” her laugh lilting and light, ”Still watching cartoons? I suppose you do have the time. When you’re not learning about magic from a cartoon mouse, is that career of yours keeping you busy? Always leave the wanting more, isn’t that what they say?” comes the sassy reply. ”Is that why you’ve been left off the screamsheets recently?” she adds too innocently.

As the little *wink* pun intended jazz trio kicks into an upbeat swing groove, Jolene takes Kishimoto by the hand and says: ”I love this one, come on, we have to dance!”

It always a chess game with her...

Suddenly in my head: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7NLF6eNXNc

Bailey smiles, letting her sister escort her date to the dancefloor. Oh, Jojo. You've stepped into her trap. Bailey spins away as the dancefloor opens, letting the couples move. The trio playing on a standard, the bassist keeping the catching beat while the pianist twinkles in letting improvisations for the elves to partner off against. The drummer adds in with wire-brush rhythms that encourage a prompt pace.

And as Jolene and Kishimoto make their first turn, there is Bailey. Hand-in-hand with the elf who had, just a moment ago, been miming the peek up her dress. The two perfectly in time. Models, actors, dancers, the speakeasy was briming with youthful elves who thrive in the creative cracks that the occupation force allowed elves into. And Bailey knows everyone. Well, she knows enough of them to play with.

The pair keep perfect time, their natural grace amplifying their familiarity with the music. Stepping to beat, Bailey's heels clicking percussively. A whirl of red hair and black dress. Grabbing onto her dance partner's suspenders to pull herself back in. Clearing some of the floor to make room.

For all her book smarts, Jojo missed the trick. There she was thinking the object of the game was Kishimoto. It's an honest mistake, he is quite a handsome catch.  And rich.  Who could forget rich.

But no, silly sister, the object of tonight's game is attention. An adoring public. Fame.

Your dance partner twirls his waxed mustache with a flourish as you take his hand and lead him to the floor. Friends at the table let out a long "Oooooooo" in appreciation and follow you to the floor. Unspoken acknowledgement of their role as extras for this little scene.

As you dance your Charleston, the other elves play their part masterfully, egging you on and edging out any competition, including Kishimoto and Jojo, until you find yourself alone with your mustachioed partner.  The floor is yours and you take full advantage as the jazz trio picks up the swinging tempo. Lindy Hop... sendout and wheel... matador... dishrag and revolving door... big finish with a valentino dip.

Even though Kishimoto is gently kissing Jolene's neck, they have been banished to the side of the dance floor. Literally and figuratively in the shadow of your performance. You are the center of attention, winded and panting from your efforts, basking in the applause of the club-goers. The battle is won.

Pick one:

The Squad a group of elven dilettantes, normally found in the speakeasy, quirky art galleries or trendy coffee shops in Haight-Ashbury. You can count on The Squad to come to your aid whenever you are in need.  They might not be much for combat, but beautiful people with acting skills and a dash of drama might be a real asset running interference or as part of a scam.  The catch, this counts as both contacts. Mechanics: visit someplace trendy or cool in Haight-Ashbury and find 1d4 members of The Squad just hanging around and ready to help you out.

Faeranduil 'Dewey' Morwyn beautiful, elegant and sporting a handsome mustache, Dewey is a demon on the dance floor and son of the Tir Tairngire ambassador to Cal Free (strangely, the ambassador maintains a residence in San Fran in addition to the embassy in Sacramento, an open acknowledgement of the seat of power in the city). He doesn't hold much sway on his own, but if you make kissy faces at him, he can make a few calls. Elves look after their own after all.

Even as Kishimoto kisses, Bailey can feel her sister's burning anger. A little pulse of negativity in the sea of light and sparkling attention. Bailey takes a moment to catch her breath. Breathing hard in Faeranduil's arms. She catches onto his shoulder, pushing up from the arching deep.

Soon, Fae and Bailey are in front of the other couple. Arms around each other, but more with more friendly laughter than pawing lust. "Do you two want to grab something to eat? Fae and a few friends were about to find a late-night spot and get something. There will be cheese," she says, as if that would be a naughty secret. After all. They were sisterly rivals. Not enemies. And Jojo barely knew anyone in San Fran any more.

Social dominance!

Pick a Face move. Chameleon, Work the Angles, Honeyed Words and Irresistible all suit Bailey nicely, although you can pick anything.

I don't know what 'making someone sweat' is! But let's go with... Work the Angles!

Core and Secondary moves are all here: link to a message in this game

Make them Sweat: when you impose your will on someone by force or threat of force, roll+Combat.

So with Honeyed Words you use your social prowess to threaten rather than being physically intimidating.

Work the Angles is a good one!

PocSec updated

Also: Faeranduil Morwyn added to contacts

Jolene stifles her sibling irritation at being outplayed, content with getting the object of her affections and knowing there will be more pitched battles in the future. It really all is in good fun, you're her only worthy opponent after all.

The elves voices echo their agreement with stepping out for a late night bite, but Kishimoto and Jolene seem content to stay at the speakeasy. Among the elves, there is a general desire to get out of the occupied city rather than dodging imperials all night. They know a great little all night diner down toward Daly City and Fae has access to the embassy limo. There is of course that great little Sushi place just up the street; no cheese there, but seafood udon to die for.

Staying at the speakeasy?

Taking the limo to Daly City for midnight breakfast?

Walking up the street for late night sushi?

There was never a group of elves more elves. Young, beautiful, drunk. Almost a dozen of them squeezing their way into the limo because not one of them had fare for a ride that far down the 280. Laughter bouncing around, along with a set of flasks that suddenly produce from jacket pockets and purses. Bailey ends up set across the legs and laps of a trio of friends as the limo turns into the flow of traffic.

Fortunately, going south meant only the outbound checkpoints. And the Imperials were always happy to wave a carful of metas further away from the core. It was coming the other way that would demand ID checks and searches. Though maybe the swank ride would simplify things. Or maybe complicate it. It all depended on the mood of the Imp at the checkpoint. But there was no controlling that. Just more night to enjoy.

The decision to pile into that limo alongside that small pack of elves kicked off a string of events that changed everything.  At the time, all that was on your mind was a greasy egg sandwich...

>> FF later... not sure how long...

...with cheese, and soy bacon. No one makes them quite like Louie.

Before you realize your head is pounding and clear your mind, your sleepy half formed thoughts are back there in that Daly City diner. Your eyes slowly opening against the light of harsh fluorescent tubes, its clear you are in no diner.

Antiseptic smells, harsh white light, prone on your back you catch a glimpse of a woman moving near to your bed wearing institutional mint green. "Oh good, you're awake," the nurse says cheerily. "It's been slow going of course, but we didn't want to rush any interventions." she continues checking the instruments attached to you, monitoring your vital signs. "You magically active folks take a bit of special care, can't jam you full of drugs and cybernetics, now can we?"

Bailey recognized the smell of a hospital by scent alone. She'd woken up in one more than once. But it had always been less confusing than this. Less of a shock. Waking up in a strange place was easier when you'd gone to sleep there. Her eyes open, looking around. Taking everything in. Her entire body aching. Lips opening, a rough-throated gasp of air leaving before anything like a word does.

"What... Where..." she struggles, as her mind begins to race. Or feels like it is. Only a few thoughts manage to get through. The rest bottled up, running into each other. The jam refusing to let anything through. "I'm medically complicated?" she recites in the words of a former doctor.

”Well, yes, that is a rather elegant way to put it.” the nurse replies sympathetically. ”You’ve been out of it since the Doc Wagon brought you in. Good thing you had a platinum contract, any less and you might have ended up having more lasting injuries. But our doctors and mages have done a really good job making sure your abilities are not impacted. And no scars either.”

"What?" Bailey responds again. "Abilities? What're you..." and a Platinum contract? Whose ID was in her pocket? Did Fae pay for it, maybe? Bailey barely made rent. She slowly struggles upright, getting up onto her elbows she manages to sit up all the way. "Can you tell me what happened? I don't remember, like... Anything?"

”Well, your chart says Doc Wagon picked you up from a car accident.” the nurse says conspiratorially. “But one of the guys you were brought in with is shot up pretty bad. He’s stable now, but that usually doesn’t happen in a car accident. Oh, Maggie on the other shift told me, she’s such a gossip, but she said a bunch of heavy hitting elves came in and are doing security on one of the others from your accident.  You really don’t remember sweetie?”

Screeching tires. Broken glass. It’s hazy, but you remember. Was there gunfire though? You can’t be sure. If only you could talk to some of the others...

Security? That sure sounded like an ambassador's kid. "Fae? Can I see him?" Bailey asks, moving to stand up. A swirl in her head stops her, but only for a moment. It settles down as her feet near the floor. "How are the others? There was... Eelwyn and Davis and Marco? How many of us did they bring in? How long have I even been in here?"

“No, no sweetie,” the nurse clucks, laying you back down in the hospital bed. “You took a nasty bump on the head. Concussion. You need to stay still and rest. Your friends aren’t going anywhere and no one is getting in or out to see that fella under guard, so just rest while I go do my rounds, ok?”

The busy nurse hustles out of your private room, leaving you to collect yourself and maybe make another attempt at getting up and around.  Or maybe she’s right, you feel the warmth of the bed, sleep taking you, unless you fight it off.

This was not a time for sleep. Were you supposed to sleep, with a concussion? Bailey certainly didn't know. But she wanted to find out more. As the nurse left, she moves stand again. Shaky legs getting beneath her. She grabs the stand for the IV, using it to brace herself. She pokes her head from her room, looking down the hall. How hard could security be to spot? Those guys didn't tend to be subtle.

The strangest sensations flow through your aching muscles. Emanating from your core, waves of invigorating energy wash over you as soon as you set your mind to getting up and moving.  They wash away the headache, settle your nauseous stomach, push away the dizziness.

After a few steps, you no longer need to steady yourself against the bed. A few more and you’re upright and walking normally. Just a few more and you feel like a panther stalking her prey.

It’s good to feel this confident, especially since your ass is hanging out the back of your disposable hospital gown.

Out the window it’s dark and the hallway looks clear. Looks like it’s the night shift so there are probably only a few nurses and orderlies on duty.  No sign of any elven toughguys playing security guard either.

Whatever was in that IV? Great stuff. Bailey makes a note to hunt some of it down. She takes a few moments, stretching herself out. Stepping around her room and assuring herself that this feeling wasn't going to leave once she broke out of the doorway. She takes hold of the IV stand, rolling it along with her. A hand moving back to tighten her grip on the back of her gown. Just, y'know. In case.

Then it was time for a little journey down the hall way. Not sneaking. She strides, confident, smiling, not attempting to pretend like she shouldn't be up and around. Poking her head into rooms and looking for signs of any of her friends.

The hallway is empty, but there is someone sitting quietly in the ward’s waiting area. They shouldn’t be allowed here outside of visiting hours...

Who is it?

This is your second contact. This might be the first time you ever met or it might be an old friend come to visit you.

Bailey recognized her, but not her name. An older elf. She was sometimes in the offices that housed Bailey's talent agent and booker. Never as part of anything Bailey was doing. She had to be working a different portfolio. But always fashionably dressed, with real leather heels and subtle jewelry. She seemed to breeze through meetings and conversations. Everyone seeming to acknowledge she was important through sheer deference.

What was she doing here?

"Ahhh, Ms Mankowitz, you're up." the talent manager says smoothly, "I see that idiot nurse doesn't know what she's talking about. I must say, you don't look too worse for wear.  You'd think you were near dead, all the fuss they were making. Do you suppose there is somewhere around here we could grab a Bellini and chat a moment?"

"I don't think they have the ingredients for Bellinis," Bailey is quick to answer, "But I'll have to tell you- whatever they have in these is pretty fantastic." She reaches up, giving her IV bag a flick. "If you wanted I'll see if they can hook you up with something? I have an in," she winks, grinning.

"But I'm not quite dressed for cocktails. Maybe we could head back to my room? Unless you brought something?"