10-04-2023, 07:32 PM
For its quirks, extracurriculars, and of course its reputation, the Bottom of the Cup Cafe was a popular haunt with students. Nesrin sat ensconced at one of the tables in the Amber Room, with a pile of books, a plate of lunch (the food was very good) and an antiquated laptop. A messy bun, glasses, and oversized MSU hoodie made for a nondescript facade as she tapped at the keyboard. Almaz worked fine for most of her needs; putting faces to names on the powermap was useful, as was the unobtrusive observation: alliances, rivalries, reactions to mistakes. To that end she’d also checked out the RLD venues printed on the cards Rev had given her, though of course that required an entirely different persona. The most vital groundwork was completed in dreams though. The recent anomaly there still shivered her spine with discomfort, but she was on a deadline; she didn’t have time for the fear. And she’d soon know if she’d done enough.
By now she’d moved on from the highrise condo, though its owners had made a very generous (and unknowing) donation to the cause in the form of a downpayment on a small apartment in a cheap part of the city. They wouldn’t miss the money and it had made her look less transient on the necessary job application, which didn’t usually matter for more temp work, but in this case she’d needed to fabricate the credential. She could have asked Zar, but she didn't want the connection to his family name. Not for this. Security was tighter given the prospective clientele, though not quite as robust as you might expect; it seemed the obscenely rich didn’t care who poured the drinks, so long as someone did. Even better if that someone smiled and looked pretty while they did it.
She wouldn’t actually be staying at the rented place, of course; she preferred luxury, and why the hell not? Moscow was a new playground, and Nesrin enjoyed the challenges to be had in her unique method of discovery. Last night’s rest spot had boasted impressive views of the skyline, and she’d toasted them with an expensive glass of wine from the bubbles of a hot-tub. No one would know she'd been there. Borrowing was so much more satisfying than owning.
The new job was secure. As she awaited the confirmation to ping through, she sat back with her coffee. An earbud sat in one ear, pumping soft music, but she was actually listening to the conversation between a couple adjacent; a woman with a lyrical accent, and a man with his head in his hands.
By now she’d moved on from the highrise condo, though its owners had made a very generous (and unknowing) donation to the cause in the form of a downpayment on a small apartment in a cheap part of the city. They wouldn’t miss the money and it had made her look less transient on the necessary job application, which didn’t usually matter for more temp work, but in this case she’d needed to fabricate the credential. She could have asked Zar, but she didn't want the connection to his family name. Not for this. Security was tighter given the prospective clientele, though not quite as robust as you might expect; it seemed the obscenely rich didn’t care who poured the drinks, so long as someone did. Even better if that someone smiled and looked pretty while they did it.
She wouldn’t actually be staying at the rented place, of course; she preferred luxury, and why the hell not? Moscow was a new playground, and Nesrin enjoyed the challenges to be had in her unique method of discovery. Last night’s rest spot had boasted impressive views of the skyline, and she’d toasted them with an expensive glass of wine from the bubbles of a hot-tub. No one would know she'd been there. Borrowing was so much more satisfying than owning.
The new job was secure. As she awaited the confirmation to ping through, she sat back with her coffee. An earbud sat in one ear, pumping soft music, but she was actually listening to the conversation between a couple adjacent; a woman with a lyrical accent, and a man with his head in his hands.