Snippet #2589673

(Jfc guys, I'm feeling outclassed here XD Good thing, yeah, but damn. All these fucking 10 paragraph responses, whew. Also, Oborosen, is Brandon in the cafe? If so, I don't think they serve alcohol >.>)
"Ah, yes. You did say that, didn't you?" asked Eris, frowning at her own awful memory, "I must have had a few too many doses of Bliss this morning. Ah, well. I can't say I've ever worked with a witch. I can offer you three hundred nuyen up front for this job, my friend, no more. I am, unfortunately, rather strapped for cash at the moment." Eris smiles that placid smile of hers. "I'm sure you understand."
"Coffee."
Coffee? Somebody had fifty nuyen to bust on a simple drink? In the Kreuzbasar? Eris' ears perk up, and with a pat on its hull she quickly slips into the skin of her Drone, the optics that were once passively scanning the cafe turning to the pair sitting a ways away from them at the bar, sizing them up with some measure of discretion as she leaves Redcap to ponder the offer, that smile still plastered upon her face, yet somehow more vacant now. She doesn't recognise the faces. She doesn't recognise the voices. More new people. Eris knows all the locals of the Kreuzbasar kiez, and these aren't locals. The Guardian runs a short scan on their armament, the reading that pops up on Eris' neuro-HUD suggesting they certainly aren't civilians. More Runners, she guesses. And skilled ones, by the look of them. They could possibly make a wonderful addition to her team, although she can't afford to shell out a ton of cash for their services. Hopefully, they're loyal to the cause. That could make a pretty fine selling point, especially since Saeder-Krupp is her eventual target. The faces of corporate oppression, right alongside the Azzies.

The drone returns to its passive oscillation as she slips back into her own brain, sipping at her creamy soykaf as she ponders this new information. Outsiders had been flooding into East Berlin since the war started a few weeks ago. The Kreuzbasar kiez, however, has remained fairly untouched by the civil war, and as a result its population had remained fairly static compared to the rest, those newcomers who came to help with the war effort generally preferring a more westward perch. Eris can't say she minds the new folk, of course. It'd been too long since she'd been able to talk to anyone new outside of business, and business was often not the most pleasant forum for a nice chat.

Speaking of which..."Right, with that business out of the way," says Eris slowly, "tell me a bit about yourself, dwarf. You're clearly not a local. Your garb and manner of speaking suggest an upbringing in the Tir nations. Am I about right?" While her interest in the conversation is not exactly feigned, Eris' mind is only truly half there, her attention divided between eavesdropping on the pair of newcomers and chatting up the witch. This was shaping up to be quite the interesting day indeed.