[Beta]

references:

• Character sheet https://stormy-waters-2075.obsidianportal.com/characters/preston
• OOC thread here:  http://forums.shadowruntabletop.com/index.php?topic=23520.0[/i]

Moving this thread over form Dumpshock.  Quoting MM's intro post from there, and splicing Preston's responses into it.

The first thing you notice as you leave Charlie's Place is that you stayed a bit longer than you had intended to. The Happy Hour specials had drug you in and the way Ellie wears her low cut top had kept you there. She did not seem to mind the way men try to look down her shirt, especially since that frequently translates to nice tips and sometimes a place to spend the night. The second thing you notice is that you should have brought your umbrella. It had been clear, with no sign of clouds in the sky when you went in and now look at it. Oh well, it is only two blocks to home and nothing for it but to pull your jacket collar up and try to stay as close to the buildings as possible.

From fifty feet away you can see her; some woman standing on the porch to the block of cheap apartments you call home.

Seeing someone waiting in front of his building triggers a rush of adrenaline in Preston.  Not the turbo-charged rush he had with Jazz, to be sure. 

• The detached inner voice he calls Gamma notes: "I don't miss Jazz much anymore."
• But the mocking voice he calls Monkey adds: "But I miss missing it!"

   
Preston hitches his shoulders and lengthens one a step, letting him feel the comforting precence of the harness holding a sap at the small of his back.  Bumping awareness with his 'link, he lets the drek of AR overlay the drek of everyday life, then flicks a thought to his hold-out and the slide containing it, putting both into ready-mode.  The cyber-arm the slide is strapped to picks up on the preparation and almost twitches in eagerness to palm the pistol, but Preston quells the vicious thing for now.

   

• Coleman sums up the tactical situation: "No taser for a more legal option, only two shots in the hold out, no back up, she's between me and the door, and since she's better than this hood and prepared she may have back up or surprises.  Need a broader tactical scan, but best to act nonchalant until then"

   

Based on the nice pantsuit she is wearing, she does not belong here. She appears to be smarter than you, however, as she is protected from most of the rain by a large umbrella. For some reason, you note that her ass is shapely under the trousers. She turns as you approach and you correct your assessment; her ass and her chest are shapely. Her face is not hard to look at, either.

   
Preston doesn't bother trying to conceal his visual scan of the area as he approaches the woman--nor his appreciative scan of her as she turns --

•    Monkey:  "Awooga!"

   
-- but he does trigger routines in his 'link to scan the immediate area for anyone running their PAN silently.

He stops the two steps away that people seem to take as the signal for "We can talk if you want to, but we don't have to."  And sure enough she speaks.

Blue eyes look at you through large-rimmed glasses and she says, "Do I perhaps have the pleasure of addressing Mister Preston?" Her accent is definitely foreign, probably French. She pauses, waiting for you to respond.

   

• Oleg: "A fragging frenchie -- damn traitors!"

   
Preston briefly regrets that family prejudice kept him from ever studying french.  He doesn't get to impress women very often, and responding to her in french might have done it.

•    Monkey: "Oh-la-la, maybe she'd be so impressed that she'd "

   
Preston squelches that line of thought.

•    Gamma: "It has been a while since I've been with anyone, that could explain why I'm responding so emotionally to a pretty face."

Focus. Just answer in english--time enough to impress her with language skills later.  Be cool, be professional.  “I don’t normally give my name out to strangers, but for a fine looking lady like you I can make an exception.”  Drek I sound like a leering drunk. “Finely dressed I mean.”  Wait now I’m saying she doesn’t look fine?  “Not that your looks aren’t fine, because they are, you have finely shaped, uh, ....” oh drek where do I go with this sentence?  “Glasses!  glasses that uh, really suit your face, as do your clothes, not that your clothes are on your face, because that would be weird...”

•    Gamma: "I’m babbling."
•    Coleman: "babbling is a display of weakness." 
•    Monkey: "No!!!! I’m blowing my chance!"   
•    Oleg:  "City girls are all too skinny anyway."
•    Coleman: "time for a tactical retreat, give up the ground I can't hold so I can make a stand in a better position.  Reduce site lines, familiar ground would be good."

Preston wipes rain off his forehead with his real hand.  "Sorry, I'm usually more together than this.  Yes, I'm Preston.  If you want to get out of the rain then Soy-U-Later is just up the block, its a diner with soycaff that is mostly drinkable.  I know I could sure go for a cup of joe right now, and maybe you'll let me start this over again."

[Beta]

Posting for MM again

Your approach gave you some information about your visitor.  The woman appears to be in her late twenties.  Her complexion is smooth, her hair professionally coifed, and her clearly tailored grey pantsuit fits her like a glove, concealing yet emphasizing her physical attributes.  She has a commlink on her somewhere, but it is running silent and not broadcasting any information.  She seems to be alone and your glance around the area as you move closer to her does not raise any alarms.  And perhaps quite naïve, considering how she is dressed in this neighborhood.
 
She smiles as she holds out a hand that is gloved in a soft gray that matches the color of her suit.  Her soft tones come across as almost seductive, with the underlying French accent.  "Thank you Mister Preston.  My name is Monique Chevalier.  I would be glad to accompany you to the diner.  Would you mind holding this?"  She seems to have completely missed your verbal faux pas, or at least not written you off entirely.  She presses a button on her umbrella and the top expands so as to be able to protect two people.  She holds it for you to carry and slips her arm inside yours, apparently not minding that her nice suit is up against your wet clothes.
 
As you walk her to the Soy-U-Later, she says, "I will try to keep this short for you.  I routinely pick up flowers for my employer and have been an acquaintance of Sonya's for some time.  Her shop provides some of the best flowers I have seen since leaving Paris and Lady Marisart likes them very much.  I was explaining to Sonya how I was looking for someone to help me with a project and she put your name forward.  Are you indeed looking for work, Mister Preston?"
 
She asks the question of you just as your reach the door to the diner.  Once under the awning, she holds out her hand for the umbrella and collapses it with a twist of her arm and looks expectantly at you.

Preston has had enough training in manners to know how to handle this one.

"Lovely to meet you, Monique.  Let's get a warm drink and possibly something to nibble, then we can talk business."

   * Monkey: Such a lady in the street ...
   * Coleman: I'm more than a bit tipsy.  A nibble of food is not going to counter that
   * Monkey: Triple Soyspresso shot with extra sugar!
   * Coleman: Ordering gives me time, best make use of it.

Preston fires off a matrix search on Lady Marisart, then asks Monique for her order and relays it to Jules, the proprietor.  Jules raises an eyebrow at that, since he can hear perfectly well what Monique asks for, so Preston finishes a bit lamely " ... and for me just a Red-Eye."

   * Gamma: I haven't actually had food since lunch
   * Monkey: Bring on the buzz!

Eventually Preston has doffed his wet coat and ingested some liquid caffeine, and he feels good manners allows him to finally answer her question.  "I might be interested in some work, yes.  I'd like to know more first, of course."

post 2

[Mercy Merchant]

Tuesday, June 5, Soy-U-Later

It feels nice to have a pretty girl on your arm, although you do get some strange looks from the people you pass.  Clearly, it is unusual to treat a woman in this fashion down here.  At the diner, she removes her suit jacket and hangs it on a hook near the booth.  Her white blouse has a small frill over the breasts that you think is probably designed to draw attention there.  It certainly works on you.  She gracefully slides into the booth and removes her gloves, placing them at her side with her small pocketbook.  When she looks at you through the large glasses it is like being examined.  The glasses perfectly fit her face, as part of you has already noted.  She asks you what is good to eat here and orders that, seemingly pleased that you order it for her, despite the rolled eye from Jules.

The matrix information you had asked for starts to spool in while you are waiting for the food to arrive.  Apparently there is a huge amount of public information on one Lady Tanya Astasia Marisart.  She is a British ex-pat who moved to the Seattle area several years ago.  She is related by blood to a British nobleman, Lord Sir Jeremy Lodge Marisart, 16th Viscount of Leicester, as well as Lord Sir Gregory Murdoch, the controller of most of the media outlets of Britain and the UCAS.   Her address in Seattle is given as the exclusive Gates Undersound Hotel.  The list of charities she is involved in covers three pages of scrolling down.  She sits on the board of the fragging Seattle Opera.  She is frequently seen at some of Seattle's best night clubs and also at some of its most notorious night clubs.  She is apparently not attached to any man in particular, although her public life reads like a who's who of eligible bachelors.  There are also hints of her embroiled with some of the more "interesting" women in Seattle.

Monique sits quietly until the waitress brings over the cups of soycaf, thanking her quietly before taking a sip of the hot beverage.  Nodding, she says, "You are right.  This is quite good."  She then leans forward a bit and says, "I understand that all of this may seem a bit unusual so I will come to the point.  My employer is in a bit of a bind and needs some help.  She needs a date to the opera tomorrow evening.  Sonya thinks that you might be perfect for this.  We are talking dinner, the opera, and a small party after.  Are you interested?  You will be handsomely compensated for your time.  If you are not interested I will simply thank you for the soycaf and the dinner and leave you in peace."

[Beta]

[spoiler]I am entirely stealing from, errr paying tribute to, Adamu's handling of Al's flashbacks[/spoiler]

October 1st 2069, West Edmonton Mall, Athabaskan Council

"I might be interested in some work, yes.  I'd like to know more first, of course."

The hard faced man stared at the barrista, waiting for the latter to drop his gaze before responding "I'll want to know more about you, first -- see if you are the right man for the job or not."  The growling voice held notes of doubt and of challenge.

The barrista squared his shoulders nervously, but his voice was steady as he responded "Of course.  I can take a break in just over 43 minutes, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until then for more in depth conversation, Mr, um, what do I call you?"

"Fisher"

"So we'll talk then, Mr. Fisher sir?"

"No 'Mister', just Fisher."

Most of an hour later the two sat at the small table wedged in next to the display of self-heating, disposable, single-serve soycaff cups.  Fisher took a sip of his plain black 'caff, then started "I asked around at a local virtual reality place for the local most suspected of cheating in matrix games, but who had never been caught.  Michael Rudnyckyj seemed to be the consensus name."

"That's me -- but I've never cheated at matrix games.  People are just jealous because I'm good, and I'm quick -- they think I have some sort of speed hack going.  But I take games way too seriously to cheat.  I'm hoping to get picked up on a pro squad and any whiff of cheating would rule me out, plus you don't get better if you cheat."

"But you were kicked out of college for trying to hack a professor's files."  Fisher delivered it as a statement, not a question.  "Tell me about that."

Michael briefly fidgeted with his caramel carreto soy-latte, suddenly worried at this sign that Fisher had researched him, before admitting "Yah, well ... I was taking gaming more seriously than Comparative Parazoology.  I wasn't a big fan of the class, it had a ton of detail to remember, I'd let things slide for too long and while I have a good memory there is limits to how fast I can cram stuff in.  I thought I'd take a look to see if she was drafting the exam yet, get an idea of what to focus on, you know?"

He took a sip of his drink, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the past as he continued his story.  "School's security is pretty drek so it was easy enough to come up with scripts that would get me in.  I found the file easily, but I never thought to look for a data bomb on it.  Never knew Lebuff had it in her.  The bomb triggered alarms, and did enough damage to the gear I'd cobbled together that I couldn't get it to shut down before I was traced."

"What did you learn from that?"

"Never underestimate old people; they might be slower but sometimes they make up for it with sneaky."

"Not 'I should study harder' or 'Always look for traps?'"

Michael thought "I'm probably about to lose a job, but frag it, let's just be honest."  He shrugged and answered "I'll be honest -- number two on my lessons learned list might be 'I shouldn't have ever taken Comparative Parazoology.'  What a waste -- I mean sure I want to be a detective and this stuff can come up, but almost always we can just look that sort of stuff up on the matrix.  The old-school stuff of memorizing trivia and pretending that makes you smart is just a waste."

Fisher  apparently decided something, as his body language changed and he announced.  "Fair enough, we both know you waste your time and aren't above trying to be sneaky to make up for it, but it sounds like you are honest enough with yourself and with me; I can work with that.  I'll tell you more about the job, but you have to agree not to talk about it, whether or not you take it.  You wouldn't like the consequences if you do talk."

Michael had a sudden idea of just how serious this threat could be, but he swallowed his nerves and assured the older man "I can keep my mouth shut."

Job is simple enough, I'm looking for an out-of-towner who is spending some time in this spirits-forsaken frozen backwater.  He's a gamer and there can't be that much else to entertain him here, so I'm sure he'll be playing games, using local hosts.  I'm looking to track him down, so I'd want you to identify him in-game, and trace him back to a physical location."

Michael smiled and enthused "Stalking someone like that sounds fun -- I'm in.  Errr, I mean, what is the pay that you mentioned?"

post 3

[Beta]

Tuesday, June 5, Soy-U-Later[/color]

"I am interested, for sure.  I hope you don't mind if I take a minute to think it through properly."

   * Oleg: Opera, well lah-di-drek! 
   * Gamma:  I have some money left from the Carlin Avenue thing, but it won't last out the month.  Work of any sort would help secure my situation.
   * Monkey:  Two upper class chicks looking my way?  I could be [flexible] on terms.
   * Coleman: Two upper class women looking my way?  Would be a perfect way to get a target onto unfamiliar ground.  Could anyone have put a price on my head?
   * Gamma:  the chance of embarrassment at such functions seems high.  Studying would reduce it.
   * Coleman:.  The Opera will have extensive private security in attendance, which would add a lot of risk to anything happening there.  The party after however will likely be far easier an occasion to pull something.
   * Monkey: Think of the food and drink at any party this Lady is at!
   * Gamma: It would be inappropriate to get tipsy while on such a job.  It would be better to stick to soycaff.
   * Monkey: They might have REAL coffee!
   * Gamma: I haven't real coffee in over three years.  That is a very long time.
   * Coleman: Enjoying real coffee would help keep me alert
   * Oleg: If they're dumb enough to serve real coffee at the party, they deserve people to drink it all up.

"I can make myself ready for the opera -- I admit that will be new to me, but I should be able to find what I need on the matrix.  But it would be good to have some more idea of what sort of party is in question, and what my expected role would be.  I can dress up as needed, I can be polite, but I'm not a great talker.  I just don't want to take the job under false pretenses.  So long as your Lady Marisart doesn't expect me to charm anyone, I'm in."

Preston pauses, then can't help but ask "So, at this party, do you think there would be real coffee?"

[Mercy Merchant]

Monique looks at you and smiles and the room lights up.  “Of course, Mister Preston, we would be serving real coffee.  It is not my place to know if she expects anything more than a handsome man as her escort.”  She reaches for her purse and pulls out a business card, handing it to you.  The name on the card is Gisseppi’s, and an address is provided.  “Do you own a tuxedo, Mister Preston?  If not, may I recommend this establishment?  I have taken the very great liberty of making a tentative appointment for you for 1000 tomorrow.  I can cancel that if you already have one or would prefer another tailor.”  Monique then takes another small card from her purse.  “This is a parking pass for the Gates Undersound Hotel.  It will allow you access to the car park there in one of the assigned guest spots for Lady Marisart.”

She looks at you, still smiling, and continues.  “If you have an automobile, may I recommend the following schedule?  You have an appointment at Gisseppi’s to be fitted for your tuxedo.  From there you drive to the florist and pick up a corsage for lady Tanya and a boutonnière for yourself.  Sonya will have them ready for you.  Drive to the hotel and you will be met and taken to the suite to discuss the details of the evening with Lady Tanya.   Your tuxedo will be delivered that afternoon and you can change there.  A private dinner with Lady Tanya followed by the opera and then back to the suite for a small party for some of Lady Tanya’s friends and their guests.  If you do not have an automobile, the schedule would be the same except that I would send one to pick you up and drive you from place to place.”

The pretty woman folds her hands on the table and looks at you.  “I know that this must sound like you are being railroaded, and that is the last thing I want.  I am trying to get many things accomplished at one time and this is crisis management at its finest.  If you say no, I will have to scramble to find another man for the job.  May I say that, in recompense for the inconvenience this will cause you, Lady Tanya has instructed me to offer you two thousand nuyen for your time tomorrow.  And we would both be in your debt for helping out.  If you are in, please let me know if you have your own transportation or if I need to send an automobile for you?”



 

[Mercy Merchant]

"Let me be frank,Miss: having my schedule even known in such detail worries me, to have it dictated to me like this leaves me very nervous.  Perhaps a professional defect -- I've used such knowledge or control to catch people who very much did not want to get caught.  So far as I know nobody is looking to entrap me, but I like to be careful.  I would presume that neither the hotel nor the opera have much tolerance for carrying weapons, nor will I have people I know around me.  In short, I place my life rather firmly in the hands of your employer, while she holds all the advantages over me."

He holds up a hand to forestall any response while he picks out his next words -- doing his best to integrate all the aspects of himself rather than letting them run amok with his thoughts.  Despite which Monkey insists on pointing out "Fancy party like this, you know who would really like it?  And who might slip us something Jazzy in return?"  Preston starts to brush away the thought, then grins.

"I don't know the nature of this party, and perhaps it would be too tasteful for my idea, but let me make it.  There is a dwarf lady who is sometimes known by the name Radiant Shadow.  She is perhaps more .... colourful than your employer's usual mix, but she is experienced at mingling with higher society and she can certainly liven up a room.  If it were feasible for her to be invited to the party after the opera, well I'd have someone expecting to see me there and so forth, which would give me much more confidence.  I can send you some background and contact information, if you'd like to consider the possibility."

After making this audacious proposal, Preston nervously gulps down a large swallow of his soycaff concoction, then adds "If you need a moment to think or consult, absolutely please take it."

[Mercy Merchant]

Your active agent pings and tells you that a silent device just went online.  Monique smiles.  "Your idea has merit.  I will contact your friend.  It sounds like you have accepted the offer.  So, do you have a tuxedo and automobile of your own?"  Within seconds the agent tells you that the device has gone silent again.

[Beta]

"A car of course, but I am regrettably without a tuxedo at the moment.". Preston's thoughts drift back to the last time he'd worn a tuxedo costume, and what had happened to it.   Hopefully he wouldn't get that sort of stains on this one.

" And yes, I accept-- I should have said that more clearly.  I'm looking forward to it despite my nerves.  It will be different, at the very least, and that is always stimulating. ". He tries for a rakish smile, decides it probably looks more like a grimace, and gives it up.

" Your schedule is acceptable too.  I would have preferred a later start to have more time to swot up on the Opera, but I'll take advantage of the appointment you have made for me.  Now, if we are agreed,I should probably get to preparations and sleep."

[Mercy Merchant]

Monique smiles and stands, putting her jacket and gloves back on.  She takes her purse and umbrella and walks with you to the door, stopping to pay the bill and thanks Jules for the meal and would he please compliment the chef.  At the door, you note that the rain has stopped.  Your agent alerts you that Monique's commlink cuts on just as you get a ping on your 'link.  She says, "I have just sent you comm code.  Please use it if you need to.  The opera is "Pirates of Penzance".  I do wonder what you used to do that has you so suspicious.?"  She turns to leave, walking away down the street.  You cannot help but gaze in admiration at her ass as she walks away.

You get less than a block before you get a message.  >>Hey.  Radiant here.  I just got a fragging message from someone claiming to be the personal assistant to Lady Tanya Marisart.  She said that you asked for me to be invited.  What the drek is going on.  Is this a legit invite?  Do you have any idea what sort of circles this woman moves in.  So the big question is what sort of scam are you working and do you need any help setting it up?<<

[Beta]

"Frag, she's quick-- I was going to wait until I walked the two blocks home before I called you, but I guess that was too slow.  Sorry I didn't reach you first."

"I'm not the one pulling the scam, but I'm not sure who is. If that scares you off, I understand. Balance it against the chance to make contacts at one of HER parties, and make your own decision on going -- me I figured you wouldn't miss it for anything."

So the deal is this woman, the claimed assistant, says this Lady character needs a guy on her arm for the Opera and a party she is holding.  Somehow shegot my name and thinks I'd fit, and sent the assistant to set it up."

"The way I figure it, either the assistant isn't who she says, she is who she says but is scamming her mistress, or her mistress is pulling something.  No matter which, I figure the party is the most likely place where it goes down. I wanted a familiar face I thought you'd appreciate the invite, and the assistant agreed to invite you."

"What do you think?"

[Mercy Merchant]

>>Are you fragging insane.  Something smells bad about this, but I can back your play.  I will apparently have tickets to the opera waiting at the ticket counter.  See you there.<<

[Beta]

"You, ma'am, are as fine a person as one can find.  And to be clear, I'm pretty sure the scam isn't primarily aimed at me -- else it would have been easy to have reasons to object to inviting you.  Honestly I thought that was the more likely case, but it was win/win -- either I'd have an indication that me having back-up was not in the interests of their plan, or yo"u'd get to go to a party with some of Seattle's social elite.  From that point of view I think it was a good gambit."

"Since I don't think I'm the main target, I figure I'm either meant to be left holding the bag, or I have some talent that whoever is running this figures they can make use of.  If I'm not being made use of in interesting ways by the time of the party, I'll mention to you 'the weather in Winnipeg' and you can make your own call as to whether and when to get out -- I'm certainly not looking to shift any problems onto you.  If I'm sure everything is good, I'll ask if you've ever heard the Vladivostok Voices choir."

"Let me know if you get cold feet tomorrow, up until about noon anyway -- I should be in the belly of the beast after that. Sleep well, and I hope to see you tomorrow."

By the time the call was finished, Preston was into his apartment building, and could finally relax a bit.  At least in theory he could relax, but in practice the 'red eye' had been such a caffeine bomb that he still felt all keyed up.  He took a look in his closet, confirming his fears -- none of his shoes were going to fit the job, he'd need to either buy or rent shoes tomorrow.  Possibly the tuxedo place would have shoes?  He fired off the question to Gisseppi's.

   * Gamma: I only have one functioning SIN right now, broadcasting it in those environments makes it unsuitable for more secure work.

"Frag!" Preston swore quietly as he opened his door, and he continued muttering  "Fragging  IDs are expensive, I hope I don't burn this one.  Really need to scrape together the nuyen to get a couple of burners together, then a back up strong ID. Got to remember to place a call about that tomorrow."

Once his door is securely locked behind him, Preston sets up some tasks for his commlink to run deal with while he sleeps.  First is the simplest: find images of Lady Tanya Marisart with men over the past few years, then use matrix context and image recognition intelligence to sort them by clothing type.  Second is to pull down images of attendees of the opera this year, using image recognition to find ones that show men in his age bracket. Third and easiest is to get the latest catalogs of styles for his Smart-Wig, along with data on popular styles.

It would have been nice to have a solution at hand, but he no longer had the trunk of clothes he'd gathered while working with Fisher.  It had gone up in flames with the van -- an honourable death for both no doubt, but both an unfortunate loss.

His Ford Americar would never have the room for that large amount of gear, sadly.  It was nicely anonymous, but it lacked the massive cargo capacity.  He looked around at his spare room .... he'd been keeping it aside as a work room for Son .... some woman he might share the place with some day, but maybe it was time to start investing in a proper disguise selection.  Time to think about how he could build that up, and he'd need some tools for modifications ....

   * Gamma: Can't solve all of this tonight.

Well, that was a task for another day.  For now he needed some sleep, and then he had to get through tomorrow's adventure.

post 7

[/size]

[Mercy Merchant]

Agents are such a useful invention.  Yours works even while you sleep.  Your in box is packed with information when you wake up in the morning.

Your call to Gisseppi's is robo-answered.  There is no direct question to the inquiry about shoes, but you did receive some brochures from the tailor.  Looking through them, you see pages and pages of tuxedo styles and accessories, but not one thing on shoes.

Lady Tanya Marisart is apparently not camera shy and there are scads of photos and write ups about her and the various men she has been connected with.  At one time or another, she has been romantically linked with many men and does not seem to care if they are married or single.  The list includes the Governor, the Mayor and Deputy Mayor of Seattle, the Commander and Vice Commander of the KE presence, trid stars music personalities, sports celebrities, well you get the picture.  The gossip rags have published lurid details of her sexual escapades for years and she has never graced any of them with a response either confirming or denying said escapades or romantic links.  There are several photos of her walking arm in arm with Gregory Murdoch, the billionaire media mogul, who is listed as her "uncle".  The rags have had a field day with that scenario, but apparently Murdoch has had the last laugh on several by buying them up and shutting them down in a most decisive manner, all while ruining the careers of several editors and publishers.  Tanya's men have run the gamut of social class and dress.  She is a frequent habitué of notorious and popular nightclubs such as Dante's Inferno as well as the more staid opera, symphony, ballet, and theater.  Her closet must be extensive because she has been seen in a vast array of clothes.

The agent provides stills of hundreds of men who have attended the opera this year from the social pages of the various news outlets in the city.  The list has been narrowed by your specifications to sort by those in an narrow age bracket, but is still extensive.

The latest catalogue for the Smart-Wig is indeed the easiest to get for you.  A side effect of this search is the list of companies that send you information and try to sell you an upgraded product.

Even after waking, the agent continues to ping you with additional information on these searches, although the vast bulk of it seems to be the first question about the men Tanya Marisart has been seen with.

[Beta]

The alarm had been earlier than he liked, and the downside of an internal commlink was that you couldn't just ignore it.  Preston tried to pull his thoughts and the data together but it is a struggle-- late evening caffeine blasts take their toll on sleep quality.

   * Oleg:  damn gossip, don't people have anything worthwhile to do?
   * monkey:  But more caff will deal with that!
   * Gamma: I do perform better after my morning caff
   * Coleman: Alertness is key.

Preston gave in to himself, and fired up his soycaff unit.  Groggy or not he took the time to filter the water grind a pinch of chicory to add to the soycaff grains.  When the machine finally trickles out its burble of dark, fragrant, liquid he can barely wait for it to stop running before he scalds his mouth on the liquid life.

The first soyspresso shot down, he sets up the machine to run a longer cup while he plans his morning.  Priority one has to be choosing and building his look for the day.  A close second is getting the right shoes to go with the tux - that was going to hurt the cred-stick, but he'd have them for the future.  And third was to figure out how to make a good impression on this supposed Lady.

First things first.  He goes through the SmartWig catalog to choose something moderately trendy but not too eye-catching --he wants people to remember the hair more than the face, but at the same time he doesn't want it to pull in more attention.  Dark brown, he decides, and dense, slightly waved at the front, a shade longer than trendy at the back.  Checking it out in the mirror he is pleased to see it makes his jaw look narrower than it anyways is-- he can work with that.

In fact, he knows just the pattern he wants to run in his voice modulator to go with this face, what he had filed as 'sincere tourist #2.'. With its slightly emphasized consonants and ever so slight sibilant on the 's' and 'sh' he thought in sounded earnest but not especially bright.  That seemed suitable for the face he was picturing.

Shoes .... He couldn't do anything about yet.  So, how to please the Lady?  Either she  was for real and ould buy anything he brought without blinking, or would be pretending she could. Either way he wasn't going to impress her with gewgaws.

He headed back into the kitchen for on his second caff and it hit him -- cookies.  Who didn't like home made cookies  He didn't have all the fancy ingredients that a real Lady would be used to, but he could make pretty good sugar cookies and decorate them nicely.  He set about getting those started, so that he could get his face on while they baked.

(ooc: more to come, but need to wrap this one up as life is pressing).