WarpDancer (Cyberpunk: Edgerunners)

Rude Meeting

-Lucy POV-

Stepping into the bar was a new experience all together, you could tell this place was different from the outset. The music was there but a lot quieter than most other dives, clearly to make it easier to talk, and the people were a different clique all together. Everyone down here was hard as nails by the looks of them, no dregs, no wannabes, just experienced mercs from all walks of life. Most of the people were pretty unique looking, but there were for sure a few gang members floating around, the fact that none of them were at each other's throats really nailed home what Tay had said about being serious. Aside from the majority of the crowd a few other figures stood out from the pack, a number of well dressed people were floating around the bar. Some were sat at tables mid discussion, while others were exchanging quiet conversation with each other while over looking the room.

The rest of the crew had filed in by this point, and despite their solid expressions I could tell from experience that they were just as floored by all this as I was. For them they'd had no idea what to expect coming into this, I'm sure ending up at the Afterlife was the last thing on their list of expectations. Not wanting to be caught standing around gawking in the door way like a bunch of posers we followed behind Tay towards the far end of the bar. He gestured towards a vacant booth, leaning against the outside until the rest of us had taken a seat, before dropping into one of the outside seats.

"Gotta say kid when you said you could get us some flush gigs I... I didn't think you were hidin something like this." Maine muses, tapping his metal fingers against the table top. Despite his words there was hint of suspicion in his tone, but given what Taylor was worried about in the first place I suppose it would make sense. "You wanna tell us-"

"No, No I don't." Taylor replies flatly, rubbing his temples.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the table as the others pick up on the vibe. Not only were they the most professional of the group but they were also likely the most perceptive as well, and they were all cluing in on the fact that T likely wasn't fully into this idea. Seeking to break the tension and make up for his doubts Falco leans in, folding his hands on top of the table.

"So then kid, by the seems of it this is your turf, what's the play?"

"Sit around and look impressive really. One of two things'll happen; One, you'll be approached by a lower profile fixer with a job for someone private, some rich prick, popstar, it can vary. Or two, after I let the bartender know you're here, she'll direct a big fish your way if she thinks you're a good fit for what they need done. Either way, you just relax for now."

"So what, we just sit on our hands and wait till someone decides to just hand us somethin?" Maine raises an eyebrow. I gotta admit, even I was skeptical, why would anyone call on some randoms they'd never heard of before?

"Chill, needy looks ugly, and it makes you look like noobs. You've got nothing to prove to anybody down here just yet, leave that until you're on the job."

"Nothin to prove? Ain't nobody know us down here, who's gonna wanna hire us when they don't know who we are?"

"Trust me," Taylor sighs, standing up out of the booth. "Just being down here is proof enough that you're worth a shot. Just worry about acing whatever comes your way." He turns, making his way towards the bar.

"Makes sense, better to have fixers picking who they talk to rather than just forming lines to chat em up." Dorio shrugs, tapping on the tables tablet and browsing the list of drinks.

"Guess you're right. I still can't get over the fact that the kid's able to get us in here. Thought you said he was just some street punk Maine." Falco quirks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat.