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(Setting) Fisherman Jones'
| >AM comes round the corner, with a duffle bag on his back. He enters the restaurant.
"May I have a table for one, somewhere private please."
| (Uh fisherman jones has a wooden interior aesthetic, what you think a kind of piratey looking place would be, thats it.)
>in the center of the large room is a girl with short blue hair and a sailor girl uniform setting up. Far off a man with a machinegun leg and kilt walks taking orders
| >a scruffy looking young girl, a cat boomer, approaches the door of the restaurant. The fatigued girl, glancing around as her wavy chocolate hair swayed every time she turned her head
| (I assumed mediterranean because a lot of their food is fish based... sorry! I was just rushing the plot/story ahead before I get too drunk. Please feel free to take over the DM)
| "M-May I have a table for one please"
| "I'll just take a table for 2 then. It was to be private because of a discussion of medical services."
>Shepherd replies to the kilt man.
| >>104480
>the man in a kilt makes his way over.
"Aye, table for one."
>he leads you over to a a table by the wall of pictures of people
| "Thank you."
>Shepherd sits down at the table, leaving his duffle bag at his side. He begins to look at the menu.
| >>104487
As you look through the menu you see the prices. 1000z for crab legs, bottles of alcohol 1200-3000z
The prices seem outrageous for the popularity
| >then a large naked man comes down with several rings of a bell, he holds a giant pair of crab legs at least a foot from tip to joint.
| >The girl gently sat down and looked over the menu. She paled as she viewed the prices.
| "Ahh. after this long day, some alcohol won't hurt, maybe some crab legs too..."
>Shepherd speaks to himself, thinking on his options.
| >Waves over the one of the staff, hoping to get their attention.
| "I'd like a chef's recommendation, and a bottle of scotch."
>Shepherd decides.
| >The scruffy girl stands up to make up fpr her short height and tries ro wave down a server.
| "May I P-Please have some Tuna, rare, and a cobalt velvet please"
| >The lights flicker and turn off completely for a few seconds... before turning back on.
| <The cat boomer quickly glances around
| <The cat boomer quickly glances arpund
| >>104524
"Rare tuna, cobalt velvet. Alright. Be about 15 minutes... Or 20 if that keeps happening"
| >The cat boomer nervously glances around
"okay. Thank you very much"
| >after about 20 minutes the formerly naked man makes his way down, he drops off the scotch and large chopped tuna with grilled lemon and surrounded by scallops at >>104505
they also drop off a rare large rare cooked tuna and a glass of cobalt velvet at >>104534
>both of the tuna are way larger than you were expecting, let alone the aesthetic arrangement it is in.
| "Son of a Bitch, How in the damnation am I supposed to eat this on my own?"
>Shepherd stares at the large fish, amazed at its' size.
| >The Cat Boomer's eyes grow three sizes
"Thank you so much!!! This is so Amazing!!!!"
| >The Cat boomer's 'ears' twitched happily
"Thank you! Thank you!!"
>She eagerly begins to cut into her Tuna
| (I figure you can take over on reactions and stuff, assume if you need another drink you get it. Phone dying.)
| (thank you charge up your phone it needs life)
| >A figure in a black hoodie, with the hood drawn up over their shiny black helmet, wanders up to the restaurant. With his hands stuffed in his pockets they opened the door with their foot, after catching it before it could close courtesy of another customer. He paused at the door and shifted his body as if he were slowly gazing around to find something.
| >Shepherd is halfway done with his fish, but only had a few sips of his scotch. He spots Neon, and tries to wave him over.
| > Neon slowly made his way toward Shepherd, a leisurely gait. When he stopped in front of the man's table he pulled a chair out with his heel and flipped it so that he could straddle the seat and lean forward with his arms folded over the head of the chair. He leaned forward slowly and relaxed like this.
| "Hello Neon, I guess this is our first time meeting."
>Shepherd looks up to the metal mask.
| > Neon's voice snapped on like a switch. A metallic, robotic ring emanates from his helmet.
" *Fsssht* So it would seem. Shall I get down to business or will we be playing at small talk for a while longer?"
| "As you say. 10000z for the job, and I pay back any tool costs. we do it at a safehouse. and what is this mention of a arm?"
>Shepherd lays down the terms quickly, to make sure that all the variables were in his play.
| "*Fsssht* Indeed. I have an arm ready for you by an acquaintance of your's request. A highly modifiable prosthetic once it is loaded with the correct software. I will also security proof it for you for an extra 1500z. Naturally it is currently in its components for your examination."
> Neon replies. Shepherd's reflection gazed back at him.
| "*Fsssht* I am fine with these terms."
| "One more thing. I need a mask."
>Shepherd waves to one of the staff.
| "*Fssht* What kind?"
> Neon finally turned his head to see which of the staff might wander over to their table.
| "Full face cover, Scan block, the sort. I want to be unknown."
| "*Fssht* Do you want it to have a unit and voice distortion?"
| "Yep."
| "I feel like we have been sitting here too long. We need to go."
>Shepherd leaves 5000z on the table, and stands up, grabbing his duffle and the bottle of scotch.
| >Neon quietly agreed and moved to stand. He turned the chair back the way it was supposed to sit properly and made his way for the door. He lead the way until he was outside...allowing Shepherd to walk ahead of him.
" *Fsssht* What possessed you to have conversation with that man?"
| "I speak to a lot of people, you need to be specific."
>Shepherd fishes out a phone from the duffle bag, turns it on and makes a call.
"Hello, Its Sh- AnoMeat."
"New callsign, Shepherd."
"Alfa, Foxtrot, Charlie."
"Yeah, I need a pickup to a safehouse."
"Alright, I'm at the best place in Westpoint."
| "*Fssht* The man who speaks in symbols."
>Neon replied as curiously as a robotic sounding voice might.
| "Ah. Thoth. Just a exercise in futility that person is. I'll leave it at that."
>Shepherd waves his hand out to signal a blacked out levicar.
"You OK with faraday cages?"
| "*Fsssht.* Considering its often safer inside of one than out...Very. Is there a reason that I would not be?"
> Neon followed and slowed upon the sight of the levicar as it came.
"*Fsssht* I was attempting to keep your conversation with the man some level of secret. I suppose you have no interest or care for that."
| >Shepherd sits down in the levicar as it approached them.
"Safehouse 5 please."
| > Neon also had a seat and relaxed--waiting to be taken to the safe house.
| (The next setting will be in the flooded district)
| >The Cat boomer watched the odd pair leave, taking a sip of her cobalt velvet
| >The Cat boomer finishes her meal and leaves without notice, payment left of the table
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| >The fresh, salty Air hits your face as you approach the seaside restaurant, adorned by a large, blue fish sign. around the restaurant, there are a few chairs and tables, some filled with people, enjoying a mid-day meal.
>Inside is similar, having a mediterranean design to it, also filled with people.