A New Abode (closed)

[Nesrin Aziz]

She realised immediately that Nissa was going to be useful; tall, dark haired, cinnamon skinned. In Kallisti’s sultry lights they would be almost interchangeable, especially once alcohol was involved to haze the eye and memory. Even the names. Nissa and Ness. It made her smirk; she couldn’t have written it better. Claire with her sassy attitude and confidence Nesrin simply liked. She was one of the servers, not a barworker like Nissa, and her stories were laced with sharp advice and sly humour.

Nesrin spent the afternoon learning the ropes and absorbing the gossip before she drifted upstairs to find one of the promised rooms. It was debatable whether she’d actually use one, at least beyond tonight. But she still hadn’t replaced the condo, and at this time of year the sun had already sunk into the horizon. It was still several hours before the doors would open, but it wasn’t time she wanted to devote to rushing that kind of work. She thought about Eddie, but dismissed turning up on his doorstep a second night. Not that she didn’t entertain the idea in her imagination.

Instead she sat cross-legged on the bed to finally open Wicked’s package, her stomach all tingly as she pulled off the tape. It wasn’t that she didn’t ever get gifts, it was more that they were usually ones she’d manipulated with the intention of receiving them. A present given completely unsolicited filled her with an unexpected pleasure, even though she already knew what she’d find inside.

She twisted the new wallet over in her hands – it was completely midrange in appearance, like something an ordinary person might carry. But she quickly discovered it was cutting edge, even more so than her actual high end wallet. There were two cases too – one with a cracked screen, to make it look broken, the other as sleek and expensive as anything someone might carry in Manifesto. Grinning to herself, she spent some time exploring and calibrating it to her needs before shooting Wicked a message:

How do I look?

Fabulous! Though the men's clothes aren't really a look for Kallisti

Not quite what she’d meant. He was still watching then. Nesrin glanced up, just to be sure, though she hadn’t clocked any security cameras beyond the ones you’d expect for the venue. Certainly nothing in the bedrooms. Though she thought the only reason Kallisti didn't sell sex was the taxes.

They have a lot of options. Pick your poison, I’m always game

He was always so fast it was like speaking in person, but he couldn’t literally have his wallet in hand all the time. As they chatted she began to multitask. She hadn’t been willing to risk checking in on Bode on the banged up phone, and if the Jackal was going to bite after last night then he must have done so by now.

There is this cute little number with a pair of bunny ears...

I think they got a hot for teacher outfit pair the top with leather pants you probably get a few more tips.

She gave a sly grin, wondering if that kind of game was actually worth indulging just for the kick of his response. She was meant to be blending in, but Nesrin did love a secret like that, an in-joke between two people … and it wasn’t like it was that out there as an outfit, not amongst all the dancers. Maybe she could even convince Nissa to play along. She was about to shoot an evasively flirtatious response when the smile slipped clean from her face.

The auction was gone. Not just for the Key, the whole fucking thing.

Nesrin went cold all over.

The Auctioneer was going to be pissed.

And that was the least of her epic proportion problems. She dropped the wallet in her lap, ran her fingers over her head. Calculation spun even as her chest tightened, remembering the spike and the attack, and wondering exactly how far the Emissary was prepared to go. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Her mind raced through the options. The Jackal was an enigma, but Voxel had a very colourful reputation. She was certain she could track either of them down, in the ether at least, but it would be from a position of disadvantage without the competition of the bidding to play one off the other. Worse than that though, it would risk invoking the Auctioneer himself – he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to her brokering a private deal, even if it was the m’Antinomian who fucked with his business in the first place, not her. They’d proven in one powerful sweep that they were the dark web gods she’d accused them of being. If she made herself vulnerable, gave the Auctioneer a reason to bite, she had no doubt he’d take it out on her instead.

This needed to be done entirely offline.

She could feel the panic creeping up her spine. Because she already knew the obvious fucking solution, and she didn’t like it – she didn’t like rushing it. Gritting her jaw she checked the time, realised immediately she didn’t have enough of it. She tucked Wicked under her pillow then shot down the stairs – there were still people around the club getting ready for opening, but she’d slowed her pace by the time she pushed the external staff door, and no one remarked on her exit. The meeting point was halfway across the fucking city. Outside it was freezing, colder than she’d expected after the warmth of indoors. Her breath puffed in front of her face. Even the RLD’s neon lights and the already milling crowds did little to take away the icy air. She tucked her head down and headed for the closest metro.

[[with Sage]]