Rei Ayanami 4 hours ago
@ayanamiHe stole from his employers. He kept something for himself and tried to move it through a fence in Amsterdam. He still wasn't sure how he'd been discovered, not that it mattered now. He'd expected to die, then, but they only smiled.
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Kaworu Nagisa @kaworu 4 hours ago The Chatsubo was a bar for professional expatriates; you could drink there for a week and never hear two words in Japanese. Ratz was tending bar, his prosthetic arm jerking monotonously as he filled a tray of glasses with draft Kirin. He saw Case and smiled, his teeth a web work of East European steel and brown decay. Case found a place at the bar, between the unlikely tan on one of Lonny Zone's whores and the crisp naval uniform of a tall African whose cheekbones were ridged with precise rows of tribal scars.
Kaworu Nagisa @kaworu 4 hours ago You are too much the artiste, Herr Case. Ratz grunted; the sound served him as laughter. He scratched his overhang of white-shirted belly with the pink claw. You are the artiste of the slightly funny deal. Sure, Case said, and sipped his beer.