Midori looked over the information, pondering each detail in turn. There was a common connection between all of the details of Mio's life. The boy was the most obvious detail because Midori could have been in a similar picture years ago, but she would have been pillion on the back of the first motorcycle she'd ever ridden, her go-gang boyfriend just rebellious enough to piss off Hana and Kenji, who were proud that their daughter had at least chosen a Japanese boyfriend, but irritated that he was a punk.

Midori shook her head, returning to the present where she was wearing her helmet, on her own motorcycle, with her first boyfriend Jun six feet under after a drug deal gone wrong. It happened, Midori was shaken loose from the organised criminal world and fell into Shadowrunning as an alternative to dancing some place like this herself.

Being a Face was a different side to Shadowrunning, the side that represented exposure to the light: one had to be know others and be willing to be known to be a Face effectively. For instance, while most Shadowrunners operated in stealth, Midori was scanning the crowd for people to speak with, in the following order:

1. Anyone she had a personal past with (especially if she had useful information for them)
2. Other Shadowrunners she'd seen on other runs
3. Anyone she recognises from a positively-affiliated go-gang
4. Anyone checking her out

She had a lot of options of where to start her investigation, but the smartest Faces knew the key to their job was to RTFR: Read The Fragging Room. The evening would reveal her personality soon enough: were people restless, celebratory, frantic? Once she adopted the mannerisms of those around her, she would glide through the night, hiding in plain sight.

The music on the club level is kept loud enough to discourage conversation and encourage bad decisions. Somehow you know intuitively that elsewhere in the building there are quieter spaces where the right customers with the right cred can find a quiet place to make their bad decisions worse.

Scanning the crowd, you catch sight of someone you would never expect to be slumming among the tourists, sararimen and criminal wannabes. Faeranduil Morwyn beautiful, elegant, paragon on the Bay ‘Plex social scene and the son of the Tir Tairngire ambassador to Cal Free. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the ambassador maintains a residence in San Fran in addition to the embassy in Sacramento, an open acknowledgement of the real seat of power. He doesn't hold much sway on his own, but if you make kissy faces at him, he can make a few calls and get paydata. Elves in this town need to look after their own.

Speaking of elves needing to look after their own, it’s odd to spot yet another elf in the crowd, although this part of the ‘plex focusses on maintaining a tourist friendly faux seedy feel, so letting some of the riff-raft in plays to the right ambiance. You don’t know her personally, but you sometimes catch sight of her in the Tenderloin. She sports a gutter punk haircut and some kind of arcane tattoo on the side of her skull. She is a spell slinger of some sort. Despite the trappings of seediness, this is actually a relatively safe space for runners to let their hair down a bit without fear of a black ops team or a rival in working for the other side. That must be what brings her here tonight, unless of course she is on the job.

Choices... choices... they were difficult to make when the options were so tantalising. Midori needed paydata but another runner's observations about the venue and surroundings could be priceless. There was only one choice to be made: Midori first flagged down a waitress and ordered a drink for Faeranduil Morwyn, a vivid green melon liqueur sour with a shot of Taéngelé. There was a message, if the ambassador's son was clever enough to get it.

Midori awaited the drink's delivery to Faeranduil Morwyn, whose ethereal nature and beauty was absolutely the sort that Midori would pursue for personal reasons if she wasn't on the job. But she was, and that meant work... but she didn't have to dislike it. As the waitress pointed out who had bought the drink, Midori offered a slow, sensual smile and a single blown kiss. Before Faeranduil had a chance to react, she'd turn on her heel and attempt to disappear into the crowd.

She wanted to speak to the Shadowrunner before time ran out, and she had a feeling Faeranduil Morwyn would wait. He would have his entourage, after all, whereas the time with the Shadowrunner could be on a clock Midori didn't know about.

Midori would sidle up to the gutterpunk elf casually, letting the elf take a good look at her and the fact that she was mostly unarmed and there for a benign reason. Her cropped sequinned top showed off the curls of Midori's rib tattoo that stretched to her hip, but didn't quite show what it was. Midori's tattoos had an ethereal glow as well, but were just there for looks.

"Nice tat, did you do the work yourself?" Midori asked, as though they were already in mid conversation. One delicate hand moved to lift her shirt to expose her stomach and most of the rest of her tattoo. "I've got some work done too, but I'm too much of a chicken to get my head done. Just in case they miss," Midori grinned wickedly. She hoped the commonality would at least get an acknowledgement from the gutterpunk. If not, a round of whiskey typically did.

Midori was relaxed, but she maintained readiness in the environment, her posture suggesting she was open and available to speak to, there to have a good time and little else. She lowered her top to cover herself again and maintained a nice, easy distance from the other elf as she waited for an answer.

The waitress moves at glacial speed as you wait with anticipation, timing your first impression perfectly.  Faeranduil accepts the drink, barely looking up at the waitress, giving your seductive smile and coquettish nod a dazzling smile in reply before he downs the glass in a single gulp. Then, as you turn away, so does he, slipping back into partying with his entourage.

He moves so smoothly, with confidence but without an overwhelming sense of ego. Clearly he has done this kind of dance before. You will have your work cut out for you with this one. What fun!

The elven witch is different story entirely. Where Faeranduil exudes elven panache, she seems so reserved. You’re no magician, not even really sensitive to that part of the sixth world, so you have to wonder if rumors can be believed. They say this elf slings as much mana as any ‘runner in the ‘plex. But she so reserved.

Despite the wild hair, the torn fishnets, chunky boots and tattoos, she has delicate elven features. Her naturally blonde hair and soft violet eyes are as enticing as anyone of elven heritage. But, she is so inexplicably shy. As you speak with her, it’s immediately apparent that her gutter punk exterior is meant to keep people away. Not because she is antisocial, just to discourage people because she prefers the solitude. ”No, I got mine done in Seattle, she replies, shouting over the music. As you lift your shirt she gives you a once over, maybe letting her gaze longer a moment longer than you might expect, but then averting here eyes, suddenly finding something else that she needs to look at intensely.  ”That’s really great ink. Is it bioluminescent? I’ve read about inks that change colour based on your mood.” she adds meeting your eyes, then looking away.

Faeranduil's smile dazzled even the relatively skeptical Midori, and she couldn't help but smile genuinely in return, her animated pupils dancing in a brief sparkly pattern. Midori was surprised that she had felt such a rush when seeing the elf, but if she was being honest with herself, it was probably a lot to do with the fact that he, like her, was an elf. She was grateful that he had turned away so quickly, sometimes it paid to be concise with one's message. She'd definitely catch up with him later, she decided.

The shyness of the elven woman failed to deter Midori, whose personality immediately became the bubbly yet cool sorority girl to overcome the initial discomfort of having to foist the conversation upon the beautiful elven woman. Inviting herself to the party was something that Midori had perfected in her years working as a Face.

"I dunno, I think it's technically mana-based but it is still my skin, so that counts as bioluminescent, right?" Midori giggled, actually giving the true origin story of her ink for once. She was fishing, admittedly, and admitting that she knew someone magically powerful enough to permanently alter her form, but to the right person, it would be a signal.

"Seattle, huh? Got sick of the rainy weather and wanted to come somewhere warmer?" Midori teased, noting the way the elf's beautiful violet eyes followed her hand as she exposed her ribcage. She kept her hips moving in a figure-eight pattern in time with the music, trying to be a good sport when it came to the dancing part of clubbing, but her digital eyes were fixed benignly on the elf.

"How long you been here? You here to stay, or break hearts and split?" Midori was overtly flirting now, but in a teasing, casual way that sounded like a compliment more than a genuine concern. Midori gestured to the space beside the blonde and smiled, wordlessly asking to join her.

The elven witch’s eyes follow your hips through their figure-eight for a moment longer than proprietary would allow in any circumstances outside a Broadway Avenue flesh market like this one. ”I left more than the rain behind in Seattle,” she replies. ”I’m not sure if San Fran will be home or just another waypoint in the road.” she adds brushing aside a stray blonde hair, revealing a neon green anarchy “A” tattoo on the back of her right hand.

Accepting your invitation, she steps in closer, but her eyes keep flicking away to something or someone else in the crowd. ”I don’t come to this part of the ‘plex often,” she says. ”This place is crawling with wage slaves and corp law trying to look discreet.” she adds, with a nod to a group of businessmen and women pouring cred into a data term mounted at their table, enough to keep the wrapt attention of a trio of dancers. ”Is it always like this?”

Midori relished being looked at and held her hands out invitingly for the woman to start dancing with her, making a scene was sometimes the way to do subtle work. People saw what they wanted to see, after all, and if it was two pretty elves dancing they wouldn't assume shadowrunning was the topic of conversation.

"Mmmh, well, let me be the first to welcome you to San Fran. I'm Midori," Midori adopted a funny little ceremonial attitude as though she was the mayor of San Fran. "And its like this a lot, but it doesn't have to be. I know the area, if you're looking for something... more specific."

Midori's movements were languid and affectionate with the other woman, as though she was making a purposeful effort to demonstrate she wasn't a threat, but a resource. She twigged that the woman was a member of the Ancients, and wondered if she was here for trouble. Midori tried to remain on neutral to good terms with all of the gangs, but friendships did form and she certainly was biased about her feelings on power structures and leaders, so she wasn't entirely impartial.

"Mmmh, this one's special, I bet," Midori gently traced the back of the other woman's hand with a fingertip softly, telling her she knew and understood. "If you're here on business, I might know a guy who knows a guy. If you're here on pleasure..." Midori paused, a knowing smile on her lips, dancing close to the witch fearlessly. "I'm certain I can help you find what you're looking for."

Those words were almost like a catchphrase for Midori, or a magic key, because they were so useful: everyone was looking for something and at that point, to those in the know, she was also obviously a Face or similarly employed as a fixer of some variety. Though her dancing skills suggested she may have spent some time in one or more of the strip clubs in the area; if she had, she hadn't danced under the name Midori.

"Tell me, what can I do to make your night better?" The question was utterly commanding, but it was delivered by a short Japanese elf in a glittery top with a crooked grin on her face, so it came across as a bit of a tease rather than coming on to her properly. Midori's eyes followed the elven witch's movements to see if her heart was in dancing or if it was more likely she was there on business.

”Another time, another place.” she says as you fingers pass over the Ancients’ tattoo while her hand slides over the tattoo on your hip in reply. With a subtle flick of her wrist, the green “A” is gone, the ink shifting into a black “X”. ”That kind of biz is behind me. At least for now.” she continues, letting herself slip into your arms, letting her hips follow yours in a languid arc as you sway to the pulsing rhythm.

But in her movement, there is a certain reluctance, borne of her inherent shyness and something else that betrays her intentions. As her eyes keep scanning the room, you know that she is here for biz.

”What would really make my night” she replies, emphasizing her words with the press of her hips and a smile, ”Is a little more of this. But my time is not my own. I may have to cut and run. Fair warning,” she adds, her warm breath on your ear, ”We can all use friends, right? Just don’t be offended, OK?”

The witch seems interesting and might be able to use a hand with whatever biz she is running, but the clock is ticking for Mio. Could you parlay help with her run into help with yours? Or just let this slip by and get on the case finding Mio?

The shyness doesn't bother Midori, she rolls her hips to meet the other elf's with a sigh of relief. The rhythm of biz, of being in tune with another like herself is one of the most intoxicating things for Midori: of someone knowing her, seeing her for who she was fully. She'd only had one partner who knew what she did and didn't mind after the guy who got her into Shadowrunning and last she knew, he was a street doc up in Seattle, making more money than he knew to do with installing cyberware of high quality but dubious legality on those who had the nuyen. He never minded the late calls or the cancellations because the demands of his business forced him to do the same and he got clinical-grade pharma for her. Just like she was about to have tonight, thanks to a certain go-ganger she knew.

Her arms slip around the blonde elf and she giggles as she smooths her body along her waist and hips.

"So you are here to break hearts," Midori teased, her body sliding softly against the witch while she kept an eye on her peripherals. She might be focused on the elven woman at the moment but she never lost track of the fact that her life was a performance while she worked.

Everything Midori did was calculated - even now, grinding on a beauty of an elven woman in a busy club had three different motivations: to establish an obvious desire for elven women that those who sold their services might approach her, to establish a working relationship with the witch and see if she can get and useful information and lastly, because she did her best work when she was genuinely enjoying herself.

"I'd like to be your friend," Midori purred back into her ear. "Tell me how I can help."

Laurie was sure that her dance partner could feel her heart pounding through her chest. Sure that the beautiful Japanese elf felt it skip a beat when she had whispered that she would like to be her friend.

The past few moments were a blur.  Ever since the old days, Laurie had steered clear of drugs and alcohol, save a few sips of ritual wine when in the circle with the sisters. Her mind was unclouded but still she swayed to the intoxicating rhythm of the music, giving way to the sensual dancing but daring not lose herself in the heat of the club and the soft pressure of the woman in her arms.

How long has it been, Laur? she asked herself, trying not to focus on the lush sensations enveloping her own rolling hips. There was work to be done and although she let her own arms slip around her petite dance partner, she gritted her teeth and put her game face on.

”The wage slaves I pointed out earlier,” she whispered back, hoping her voice wouldn’t betray her shyness or her growing desire. ”My life would be much easier if I could get my hands on a pass card one of them has in his pocket. My intel says they go for this kind of thing.” she added staying pressed against Midori, hips to hips, chest to chest. ”I’m hoping we got their attention.”

"Who doesn't go for this sort of thing?" Midori grinned reassuringly, even if the intel wasn't perfect, that didn't mean they couldn't improv. Midori was there on business anyhow, so she wasn't going to take things much further with Laurie than she had with Jimmy. Even if she did use her body for business, there was a line and Midori was surprisingly consistent with it.

"We'll get their attention," Midori murmured as she used the general chaos of the dancefloor to lead Laurie so the couple was in the peripheral vision of whomever she considered the most likely to have the passcard Laurie needed. While Midori kept dancing with Laurie, she was looking for her position relative to Faeranduil as she wanted him to see that she'd neither left the club, nor approached another man - business was business, and she was going to leverage the situation for all it was worth.

Midori enjoyed the feeling of Laurie's soft body against hers and she leaned forward, offering Laurie a small, brief kiss on the cheek. It was a chaste kiss, but the way she nuzzled Laurie afterward suggested that she was sensitive to the elven witch's comfort with everything. The two beautiful elves would have been distracting anywhere, but there was something particularly alluring about the two metahumans that was more than the sum of the pair.

"I want to spend more time with you, but I'm working tonight too," Midori purred, gazing into Laurie's eyes. "So when you have their attention, don't hold back." Midori kissed Laurie's other cheek, this time allowing her soft lips to linger just a moment longer. Nothing was going to prevent Midori from finding Mio - there was too much of a risk the longer she let the young woman run and she needed to catch a scent soon before the trail went cold.

Midori would keep flexible for what the evening presented, but her priorities were networking with those in the know for the area and actually scouting for anyone who even vaguely resembled the pictures she'd seen. Of course, there was cosmetic surgery and a hundred other reasons to not look like what one used to, but Midori was optimistic that unless the girl had serious resources, it would be difficult to do well, quickly.

Midori kept a lookout for Faeranduil, looking for a lull in his company that she could send another drink and, this time, to gesture they should retreat to somewhere a little more cosy. Whether Faeranduil would understand it was business as much as flirting was anyone's guess.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:22, Tue 31 Oct 2023.

Laurie's heart skipped another beat when Midori said she wanted to spend more time with her and their eyes locked for a long time. The two made a pair of beautiful opposites, Midori in her modern and chic camisole while Laurie suddenly felt self-conscious in cast off old Blitzkrieg 2055 tour t-shirt over cutoffs and torn fishnets.

The chaste kiss drove away her self-doubt and she allowed herself a long, indulgent moment letting the music and the warmth of the woman in her arms take her away from life in the shadows for just a moment before she replied, "I would love to see you again too, sometime when work wasn't so pressing."

Returning to the task at hand, Laurie glanced over her shoulder towards the group of Shiawase employees that she had tailed into the club. Even though she commanded the mana and could call the elemental spirits, magic could be a fickle mistress and sometimes the simplest approach was a good old-fashioned con. As soon as she caught one's eye, she whispered to Midori "Time for one of them to play the white knight. During the next song, throw your drink in my face and cuss me out. Leave me crying on the dance floor. I can take it from there."

"You know, there's more than one person that'd pay good money for that," Midori teased, referring to her requested upcoming behaviour. Midori nodded and danced slowly in Laurie's arms. The contrasting styles of the pair, combined with their ethereal beauty, same-sex attraction and the combined magic of the chems and pounding beats that made up clubland... After the upcoming antics, people would notice the pair tonight, for better or for worse. Becoming a temporary local story wasn't necessarily a bad thing for business for a Face: sometimes the reflected glow of minor celebrity was enough to open doors. She knew she could ride the fickle knife-edge of notoriety like a pro, she sincerely hoped Laurie would be prepared for it. Laurie seemed so shy and sweet that Midori couldn't be certain that it might throw her game, worse had happened to better runners.

The change of song saw Midori take the glass she'd been drinking from and threw it in Laurie's face with an expert flick of the wrist that ensured most of the drink would miss Laurie. Midori recoiled from Laurie and, without missing a beat, she cried out:

"You thought we had a chance after what you pulled?" Stepping a few feet away from Laurie, allowing the stunned silence to grow as people strained to hear over the thumping music.

"I don't care how much you were offered," Midori continued, being deliberately vague to allow the club goers no hint of the details of the juicy story. "I'm not going to be in on something like that."

Midori stormed off in the direction of the ladies' room, leaving Laurie alone to do her thing. She scanned the crowd in front of her, hoping there was someone else who might be advantageous to speak to nearby.

You storm across the room, playing the jilted lover to a tee. Mere moments later as you enter the sanctuary of the ladies room, you see one of the gray-suited wageslaves slide in to console the elven witch. Early indication that the plan will pay off.

During your brief, but meaningful encounter with Laurie, you seem to have lost Faeranduil to the night. You’re confident that you left your mark and that you just need to wait for another place, another time. It’s not a bad trade. A runner like Laurie will want to keep a low profile. The Ambassador’s son on the other hand won’t be hard to track down. I’d you know where to look or who to ask, you could probably get that kind of shadowbuzz for free.

”Ya know,” a voice at your side and a hint of designer cologne  breaks your train of thought, ”There’s people who pay good cred for that kind of thing.” says a short, heavily built man with a wispy moustache and three day growth patchy stubble that struggles against his Asian heritage to be the beginnings of a beard. He stands the same height as you, but weighs at least twice as much, thick neck and shoulders showing through the skin tight shirt he a wearing. Intricate dragon tattoos with iridescent scales peek out from his collar and at his wrists.

Midori was glad that she hadn't messed up Laurie's chances on her run - Midori tended to be a team player on runs even when she accidentally stumbled into the middle of one. Unless it was something that was entirely against her morals, like geeking someone just because they're a metahuman, but she rarely came across those types, except the ones that thought (wrongly) that they could mess with her because she was one of the smaller metahumans around.

Midori was almost glad to have lost Faeranduil to the night - he was likely a personal prospect as much as a business one, and she didn't like to mix the two when she could help it. Even as far as it had gone with Laurie complicated things, she'd seen the doe-eyed look in a gal's eyes before and knew it meant trouble for her if she couldn't keep an eye on her footwork.

Midori wasn't dumb, tattoos like that had to mean the guy was a Yak - sometimes those tattoos could mean a wanna-be, but given the scent of the cologne, Midori knew otherwise. She had to play things cool if she wanted to keep the Yaks cool, and anyone who wanted to keep their head on their shoulders wanted to keep the Yaks cool.

"Well, if you meet any of them, let me know," Midori grinned, offering a small but respectful bow, the sort she might give a colleague of a higher rank, but not a boss. "Apparently I'm a free agent again," she added, gesturing dismissively back at Laurie.

"I'm Midori," she offered, looking into the man's face to try and determine his intentions for her. Meeting her by the bathroom said one thing, but Midori didn't think this guy was the club bathroom type, so she was going to have to dig deeper to analyse his motives.

”I’ll find you a few, Midori,” he replied smoothly, ”You just gotta pay my finder’s fee. You and me, we can make a lot of cred together.” he adds.

The club, the obvious criminal ties, the way he instinctively preys on a vulnerable woman. This kyodai must manage some local fūzoku services. What a stroke of luck finding him.

The clans approach to prostitution varies of course. Some traditionalists amongst the more noble criminal houses follow the old ways of professional courtesans, managed and trained to perfect their arts. Others are callous flesh merchants who manipulate and use people, caring little for their girls or their clients. Just looking for quick cred.

”I’m Gin,” he continues, ”If you are looking for something new and exciting, you would be very popular in the soaplands or pink salons. The Black Chrysanthemums clan would take good care of you.”

Midori smiled at the man's brazen offer, but inwardly she was thinking about the best way to keep on this man's good side while not falling prey to the less-gentle methods of coercion that pimps tended to use: all things being equal, she knew she could not win a fight against Gin.

"The soaplands? Gin-san, you are selling me short," she purred, acting as though she wasn't fantastically insulted by the idea of being a bathhouse girl. "You know the real money is in BTLs," she commented, examining her nails casually, as though she wasn't about to suggest something particularly heinous. "After all, you can copy and replay the same scene over and over without needing live actresses, and those chipheads eat it up. I've got an idea for a cal-hot, but need someone who looks a lot like me to make it work."

Midori wasn't going to give Gin any more information than she had to in order to protect Mio for the meantime: she didn't know how street-savvy the woman was and she couldn't risk setting Yaks on her tail.

"How about this, you tell me what you want for your 'finders fee' if you come across someone that looks like me, and any BTLs I make with her, you get first refusal for distribution," Midori's words were careful, but it would be a good deal: finders fee and distribution rights for the BTLs could make Gin a very rich man. Of course, if the number of BTLs Midori made was zero, Gin still would get his finder's fee. It risked annoying him, but Midori was good at soothing irritated, overblown egos when the alternative was failing a run.

"What do you think, Gin-san? Can you keep an eye out for me?" Midori smiled, tilting her head to the side.

Gin clicks his tongue in disappointment. ”The soaplands are personal. Ancient. Honorable. Chips are cold and impersonal.” he replies. ”But at least you will not be competition, heh?” he adds with a lewd laugh.

The Black Mums fall on the more traditional side of Japanese crime clans. The ninkyō dantai. The shadowy hand of the Empire. Loyal to the Diet. Putting a personal sense of honor over easy or unclean nuyen.  They are among the closest clans to the seat of power in Kyoto. Predictably that influence carries with it certain limitations. They will not deal in these lesser forms of illicit commerce. Would not sully themselves or suffer the loss of honor that came with human trafficking or BTLs.

”So you’re looking for another girl like you? Just a pretty little elf or a pretty little josei or a pretty little josei elf? Any or all of the above?” he asks, taking a short haul from a vaporizer.

"Of course not, there are much lovelier flowers than me in this night garden," Midori responded, adjusting her language to match Gin's general disposition. Midori respected tradition as much as she could, but she was a modern woman and didn't have a clan backing her to keep her nose that clean. But she could play along for now, there was a lot at stake and it was better to have a reputable Yak on her side than to annoy him.

"Yes, and what I'm planning to create is art," Midori said pointedly, as though she was mildly insulted at the implication that what she would create would be anything less than a masterpiece. "I don't throw out drek, but I am also not below meeting the needs of discerning customers for whom soaplands are ... out of reach, for one reason or another."

Midori was keeping the course about the BTL story, it was her best bet to find someone who knew an elf that looked like her without tipping Mio off that she was being sought personally.

"Gin-san, you know there are some that are in delicate positions and cannot afford to be exposed to the public in such a vulnerable way," Midori spoke coyly, as though they both knew that there were people, rich and powerful in a way that neither of them would likely achieve in a thousand lifetimes. Those sort of people 'ordered in' if they wanted a girl, and if they were worried about assassination, a BTL was the next best thing.

The powerful, the privileged who lived in metaphorical ivory towers were served differently than the rest and Midori knew that. She'd been on runs where she'd had to pose as a callgirl and the level of security that she'd had to be cleared through had been invasive, to say the least. A truly quality BTL that featured two beautiful Japanese elves would be a masterpiece if done tastefully and with a big enough budget.

"Yes, I need someone who is nearly identical to me, the storyline involves a stolen kimono..." Midori smiled gently, nudging Gin-san in the direction she wanted him to see her in.

"She has to be practically a twin for it to work - thanks for the compliment, but yes, a pretty elf and she must be Japanese. Do you think you're up to helping me cast such a role? I assure you, what I plan to produce is anything but tacky." Midori looked up at the large man earnestly.

"Perhaps we can speak over a drink, I'm thirsty and you look like you're about due for a refill?" Business went smoother over drinks and this guy knew his stuff, she just hoped she could balance the line between tasteful and tempting that would draw Gin in to help her find Mio.

”A drink sounds perfect,” he says, motioning for you to find a booth while he heads over to the busy bar. Joining you a few moments later with cocktails, he settles in across from you.

”Your love art idea is very intriguing,” he says sipping a dark and smokey selection from Yamazaki.  ”Similar services are offered in person within the more refined parlours in some of the civilized sectors of the ‘plex. There is a market for this, especially between two delicate blossoms such as you propose. You are a shrewd business woman Midori and I wish I could help, but I have not heard of another like you who would be interested in the work.”

”You can appreciate that, while you are indisputably radiant, my clientele prefer something a little less… exotic.” he adds delicately. Over the music, you can hear sincerity in his voice. He has no reason to try to deceive or to try and play you, he was being honest about not getting into chips, even though he can tell it will be lucrative.

But something about his tone, the look in his deep brown eyes. He is looking for a score. He is ambitious but bound by a personal sense of honor. Your intuition tells you that he yearns to become gashira but will not compromise his morals in a gamble to increase his standing.

Midori slips into the booth, well aware that being seen with a Black Mum might compromise some of her other allyships, but this was important: Gin represented not only one opportunity, but an untold number of connections she would literally kill to have.

The cocktails represented a choice: she'd hoped that they would flag down a server and make an order, but refusing the cocktail because of drugging concerns would not end well. While the Black Mums were more honourable than some of the other gangs, that did not prevent certain members from acting in bad faith, after all.

"I appreciate your open-mindedness regarding the idea nevertheless, Gin-san. I know that it is not precisely traditional, but I believe that the quality of the production would speak for itself. I believe that we can help each other," Midori purred, showing an act of good faith by sipping her cocktail while they spoke. She traced the lip of the glass with an index finger and flicked her dark hair over her shoulder, allowing the loud music of the club and the hazy air to give the pair a certain air of mystery and danger, like tigers at the zoo.

"Your words are too kind, Gin-san, and yes, I am familiar with how most of our brethren feel about ... people like me," the elf averted her eyes momentarily, the bright irises dimming as though she was expressing genuine shame about her own kawaru. She didn't mind being an elf but the absolute refusal of many of her countrymen to deal with her stung: she was an impurity in their eyes. Taking another sip of her drink, Midori sat back in the booth and smiled bravely, trying to readjust the conversation towards a more lucrative situation.

"Still, I feel we can help each other, Gin-san. You are clearly a man of ambition, approaching me was brave. I, too, have ambitions and believe that we can both benefit in a manner that your oyabun would approve of. What do you say to that?"

”It is prideful to presume to know what the oyabun would approve of,” Gin replies. ”But a transgression that can be forgiven if I made my own aspirations so obvious that you could read my motives so clearly.”

He takes another drink of his whiskey, swirling the amber liquid around the glass contemplatively. Wheels are turning behind those dark eyes. Ideas that don’t fit inside the mould of kyodai pimp. ”Have you ever taken a moment and thought about what you would choose if you could have anything? Anything under the rising sun. Let there be no limit to your ability to make your wildest dream a reality. Nuyen, power, fame, pleasure. Put all of these on the table and pick one. Which would it be?” he muses philosophically.

”What would you pick Midori?” he asks in earnest, not wanting to dominate the conversation but obviously ready to share his own answer with you.

"You say it's prideful, but I argue it's obvious: your oyabun wants success for the Black Mums while following the values that he instills in the organisation, no?" Midori asked, patiently showing that she wasn't claiming to know the man's mind, only in the direction that they must travel in to find out his needs.

Midori stretched her legs underneath the table, allowing her soft calf in its leather leggings to brush against the outside of Gin's calf. It wasn't quite a sexual gesture, but it was a gesture she was becoming more comfortable with him but that because this was business, she wouldn't make overt expressions of a desire for friendship.

"You aren't obvious, Gin-san, I just deal with men like you often, and men like you enjoy the finer things in life and have ambition to collect them: nuyen, attractive lovers, notoriety or glory, belonging..." Midori answered, leaving the last option hanging in the air between them as she touched one of the silver hoops that decorated her elven ears almost subconsciously. It was a tell Midori hadn't even been aware she'd made, but it spoke of a heartbreaking truth about the woman: she knew she didn't belong - she was Japanese-American and an elf: not Japanese enough for the Japanese, too Japanese for the Americans and a freak of nature to everyone.

"I've never thought about it, Gin-san, I'm having too much fun living life day-to-day," she began, taking a long drink and allowing the alcohol (and hopefully only alcohol) to drop her barriers a little.

"In my wildest dreams, perhaps I'd have the sort of influence an oyabun does. Before you chide me, I don't want to be an oyabun - but I would love the ear of one, perhaps one who... liked me despite my shortcomings." Belonging. Belonging was raw in her face even though her digital eyes sparkled with tiny stars like a galaxy in her pupils. Either she couldn't face that she was a lonely outcast, or she didn't realise that she wanted to belong yet, but what else would a Face desire but a carte blanche to slip into any and every social setting like a key in a lock?

"You look as though you've contemplated the answer before, Gin-san," Midori teased, trying to regain her footing and power in the conversation despite her painfully honest answer (without her knowledge). "Tell me, what does Gin-san want out of life?"

Midori would observe Japanese drinking rules, pouring Gin-san drinks as they spoke without even thinking about it. She didn't mind if people thought she was a comfort woman for the Yak, her perception to others only mattered as far as it would get her access to what she needed. Right now, she was surprised to find out that she might actually need Gin-san's help.

"Kanpai!" The beautiful elf toasted the next round of drinks in Japanese, a genuine smile on her face. She seemed almost prettier as herself, even with her vulnerabilities, than she did as a Face when she was using her looks as a tool of the trade.

”Belonging.” He replied, making an effort to ignore the shapely leather clad leg rubbing against him under the table. Under other circumstances you know he would gladly take this gesture as an invitation to find a far more intimate place for far more intimate moments.

Instead, he meets your artificial eyes, and seeing nothing behind the surgical steel and glass, turns to watching the lines of your face. Watching as the realization of your own desire crosses your exotic features. ”Your insight does not fail you. I doubt it ever does.” he says heavily, as if the weight of the world is pressing down on him. ”The things you mention, material wealth, beautiful partners and the other trappings of success are meaningless. You leave your mark on this life through those who carry your memory. The samurai used to say that all they had to protect, to cherish, was their honor. They cared so much about protecting their honor, about belonging to something greater than themselves, because they felt that they were already dead. Because they might die or be ordered to death at any moment, every moment they lived became precious, something to keep unsullied.”

He takes up the glass you have poured for him, letting his hand slide over yours for a brief moment. ”I would wish to have that kind of commitment, or more importantly, to have something worth making that kind of commitment to. I would wish to belong to something so important that I cherished every moment keeping my honor bright for fear of leaving a besmirched legacy that somehow tainted that commitment.”

Having allowed himself to open up, and having seen your vulnerability as well, it’s like the weight has lifted from him. Like you, his spirit is lighter. Raising the glass, he echoes your excitement. ”Kempai!”

Midori was struck by the Yak's sincerity in his words, and furthermore, the depth of his desires: she'd underestimated him and felt embarrassed that she had. Her lilac irises dimmed for a moment as though she was taking in Gin-san's revelation personally and she adjusted her posture, leaning forwards out of interest and the genuine connection they seemed to be sharing at that moment, despite the volume of the music in the club and the alcohol.

The way he'd summarised her desires into one simple word hurt like a lash because it was true: she did want to belong somewhere, belong to someone or at least to matter to them. She'd been running more or less solo since Jun had died, there was always some part of her that was unacceptable to potential partners: hell, even if they accepted her being metahuman and the same race as the colonising force in the 'plex, her Shadowrunning was a step too far for most.

"My insight keeps me alive, the day I am found dead is the day it will have failed me catastrophically," Midori responded, knowing full well that in her line of work, the life expectancy was much lower than that of a norm. Listening to Gin-san's words, she nodded, finding his desires far deeper than most of the Yaks she had business with.

"You want your legacy to be a good one, is that it? Well, Gin-san, perhaps my intuition has failed me," Midori spoke in an amused, playful tone. He had come up to her asking about her working in a bathhouse, so she wasn't beating herself up too badly about the mistake. Midori sat back momentarily, mulling over her options with her run tonight. She had to focus on finding Mio and she wasn't going to make headway with Gin-san. She didn't trust him enough to be completely honest with him yet, but she also didn't want to spoil what could be the beginning of a mutually beneficial relationship.

Midori appreciated the reciprocated touch, he did not have the utter disgust of her that many of their shared heritage did and the small gesture did not go without notice.

After the toast, Midori scans the club once more to make sure she's not missing anything from the environment by being focused on Gin-san.

"You're still seeking something to devote yourself body, mind and soul to?" Midori reflected, wondering what or who could be worthy of such perfect surrender. It was an admirable goal but her cynicism reminded her of the saying that when you lay down with dogs, you get fleas. Perhaps the Black Mums were the closest he could get to the idea, but a Yak was a Yak in many ways, it was just a matter of the degrees of honour and of criminality.

"I can get on board with that," Midori nodded, pulling out a modest paper business card - they were ludicrously expensive in that digital age for what they were, but they were a nice touch for her more traditional clients and she offered it to him properly, in both hands with a respectful bow of her head.

The card was simple, offering her name in Kanji and her contact details, but it was not the sort of card that someone who made her living shilling BTLs would have - it evoked a sense of taste and of refinement, perhaps the card would have typically been used to comfort clients like her current employer had they met in person, but now it was being offered as a gesture and an admission: there was more to Midori than met the eye.