It's night

You decide that you won't be buying pantsu in Vietnam probably and you have no idea where else you might be going, so you're gonna stock up here. You make sure to buy one for Aria. You assume it's the right size based on what you saw and managed to feel. As for yourself you prefer something simple and a little less elegant.

After an hour of searching you have picked out:
2 striped pantsu (pink and periwinkle)
2 polka dot pantsu (red and yellow)
3 solid color pantsu (white, black, and teal)
1 bear mascot pantsu
1 bird mascot pantsu
1 cat mascot pantsu
1 panda mascot pantsu

The woman at the cash register looks at you with a look that only someone who is judging you with all their might may even attempt to. She rings you up quickly and fastidiously, as though she wants to get it done right the first time so she doesn't have to look at you any longer than necessary. It's really unfortunate that she can't accept good headgear for what it is. When she'd done and hands you your bag you reach inside and pull out the panda mascot pantsu and smile at her with a grin so shit eatingly absurd that she almost looks like she's going to cringe. Oh, baby. You pull that pair of pantsu down over your head and tell her to have a nice day. With that you walk out briskly and make your way to the airport.

On the way you get even more dirty looks than before. Whatever, man. When you finally arrive it's just in time for you to make boarding. The people on the plane try to avoid eye contact with you. Hehe. How very weak. People can't stand things out of the ordinary. How predictable. When you finally get settled the liquor is really getting to you and you start to doze during the preflight checks. When the plane is finally in the air you're sleeping soundly as a panda.

[] Wake up.
[] Dream on.

 

Dream of more cows.​

 

Your dream of a musical featuring only cows as actors. It's really fucked. Like you have no idea what in the bloody horrible fresh and clean hell is happening to Moolina and Moobert half the time, but for some reason you can't bring yourself to get up and leave. So it continues. After their mash up of Sympathy for the Devil and I'm Sexy and I Know It you're crying. Tears of sorrow streaming down your face. That's when you get up.

You're awake and the airline attendant, some woman, is telling you to get off the plane. Oh. Well, looks like you're in Nam. You start to get up when you see something you don't particularly like seeing. You've noticed that the Americans from the bar are outside your window. Shit. What do you do?

 

Sneak past them. Be like Moolina. Graceful.​

 

Do a cartwheel past them. Sneakily. Sneakily cartwheel past the people who probably want to kill you.

 

You're not hung over at least. Wait. Given how much you drank... divide by pantsu... carry the two... reverse the squiggle before the river brings it all tumblin' down... you're still drunk. You're not in any state to be getting past them. They're definitely up to something. Come on. No one would be in two of the same places as you for any reason but to do bad things to you. Maybe they're with Eff Bee... nononono. Impossible. The flight attendant is urging you to move. You look at her and tell her that she's a very pretty lady and that you'd like her to forgive you for what you're about to do.

You grab her around the waist and lift her up, good thing she's light. You then carry her to the bathroom and as politely as possible demand that she exchange clothes with you. She looks like she's not sure if she wants to scream or not. You ask her not to scream or hit you. She hits you. You ask her not to scream at least. She starts fumbling with the lock. No. That won't do. Trade now.

About ten minutes later she's wearing you're shirt and jacket and you're wearing hers. She's looking a little flushed and breathless. You're feeling a little silly. You know better than to even try the bottoms. You thank her for her cooperation and say she's very good with her tongue. She kind of nods and walks off as quickly as possible. You look outside again. The Americans are still there. The main thing you want to do is make sure they don't recognize you. The best way to do that is to make sure they don't see your face. You have an idea.

Now, you're hardly what you'd call athletic but you think you can pull off a series of cartwheels. Specifically from the time you get into the terminal to the time you're out of sight from those two. Paradoxical as it is, don't something completely asinine will probably throw them off your trail. So you get a good strong running start and...

[] Tumble over yourself and land at their feet.
[] Tumble over yourself and land at their feet and then puke.
[] Tumble over yourself and land at their feet and then projectile vomit.

 

Tumble over yourself and land at the flight attendant's feet, then puke. Try that again. Remember to avoid the Americans and try not to puke. Be graceful like Moolina.​

 

[] Tumble over projectile vomit and land at their yourself and then feet

 

The blonde girl steps away from you and tells her partner to clean off his shoes. Damn, they didn't tell you anything. The guy offers you a handkerchief and smiles. You ask him what happened. He said you fell. And vomited. On... a lot of things. He asks you if you'll be okay. You nod and he walks off. Did you just... did he just...

Nailed it.

After sobering up and buying a new suit you get moving. Finding this guy won't be easy. He's apparently a recluse and capable of hosing an entire squad of revolutionaries solo. Who writes this shit? No matter. You're on the job. Nothing to it, but to do it. You do the standard information collection strategy of waiting around for people to talk about new visitors. No word on anything but your little stunt and the terminal. Something you hope no one ever recognizes you for. You've also decided to put away the pantsu for now since the Americans have now seen you with them on.

It's been hours and still nothing has come up. How do you proceed?

 

Check the time. If it's late, go try and find a place to stay. Either way, go walk around some. Might find something.​

 

Check out the seediest local bar/pub/nightclub you can find and hope that
1. No one recognises you, and
2. listen out for anything of interest

 

You've been pretty fortunate with info finds in bars of late so you're gonna leave this candy ass shit and head over to the part of town where little kids get mugged and old ladies get shiv'd. You're pretty confident you've found just the place when you see a guy stumble out while pissing himself. Looks like he had something of a night. You walk in and scan the room as you cross it. You take your place at the only open seat at the bar after taking a moment to wipe it down. Looks like Dribbles was sitting here before. Pleasant. You order something weak this time, because you can't afford to get too drunk if last time proved any indication. You sit back and pick out sounds from the din of drunken shouting and poor attempts at pickups. Everywhere is the same, even in smaller backwaters like this one. That's when it occurs to you.

He's not here.

He's never going to be here and no one here will remember seeing this guy. He's a serious hermit when he's off work and he's probably not in a place like this for work. Who needs a bodyguard or a hired gun out here. Drug rings have their own guys and wouldn't bother with someone as expensive as him. So what are you going to do now? He's known for avoiding crowds and hooker ridden places. You've seen like three hookers already. Hmmm. Maybe you should... No. Now is hardly the time. You need to keep out of sight of the Americans and find a secluded place where he might be. You know only that he flew into this town and has made no other declared transportation for about a week.

You can't do anything right now, so you find a place to stay and collect your thoughts a bit. What do you plan on doing tomorrow?

 

Try and find some nice secluded areas. Maybe following those Americans could lead somewhere if you spot them. Just don't get spotted yourself.​

 

You take a look at a map of the area and see where the city limits are and if there are any labeled settlements further out. There are quite a few. Something of a needle in a haystack then. The Americans must be here for some reason and you're almost certain it can't be you given that they arrived ahead of you and left without interacting with you in any meaningful way at all even after that big scene you made. For all you know, they know and care to know nothing about you at all. That's a plus, but you can't let them see you a third time, because they'll make it their business to get in yours if they notice you again. So you take a different tact in your search and start asking for well dressed Americans. No one seems too concerned and they tell you where to find the classed up folk.

It's a swanky party in the closest thing this little city has to a downtown that you need an invite to get into actually. All foreigners and run by Arress Co. Hmm. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, this listening to locals. It's late but the party seems to be just getting started. How do you proceed?

 

If you can't get in without an invite, try and sneak in. Look for any narrow pathways or windows, you know. Or see about getting an invitation somehow.​

 

You're good at sneaking into places when it's endearing yourself to the doorkeeper that'll get you in. When it's paper, you're a little less adroit. So you decide to look for someone who seems to be on his way in. Everyone is hopping out of cars driven by their private butlers or whatever and jaunting on in without a care in the world. Mostly middle aged guys with young wives/girlfriends/hookers?/toys. You take a few minutes observing their little social group and customs. One of them sticks out. The loser of the group with no confidence or standing. You can tell by the fact that he's got the hottest arm candy and most confident stride. He's putting it on for the Ritz crew and he knows it. He doesn't want them to realize that he ain't got what they got in one way or another. You start waving and yelling at him. He's too much of a bitch to brush you off and tries to figure out who you are. He's sucking up to you in case already. Buying a nice new suit was a good idea. The girl is eying you warily. She's clever. You kill her hand and sweep them forward without getting into the specifics of who you are. The doorkeep is careful and checks the invites against the list so he won't let some sleight of hand through, but you'll find out soon if connections will do the trick. The plan is to check the list as he checks off the couple of groups before you and pick a random name to go with. It's not perfect but the doorkeep will fall for it in all likelihood since you're seeing him check off names making the choice all the easier for you.

When it's your turn to get in you're loud and jovial. You act overly familiar with the loser and his companion. The doorkeep has seen this schtick before, clearly. So you don't even pretend to look for your invite until you see your would be benefactor pull his. It's a snazzy little slip of paper, cursive and hard to read as hell though. The list comes out as he checks them... Whittington, Lloyd. That's the name you pick out. When the doorkeep ask you were your invite is, you tell him that you're Lloyd Whittington. The real Lloyd Whittington was a little surprised at this and the doorkeep was none too amused. You play serious for a moment until the real Lloyd walks his loser ass over and starts covering for you. You tell him your name is Lucas Easton and that's when the name pops up and the doorkeep lets the lot of your through for a modest fee. Not exactly as planned, but hell, Mr. Easton won't be missing his spot too badly and the doorkeep won't be able to stop you now. This gate is crashed.

You should...

[] stay with Whittington and Co.
[] look around.
[] get drunk and go bowling.

 

Ditch loser and look around.​

 

He has served his purpose for now. Look around, but keep an eye on where loser goes, if you need him again.

 

You take it upon yourself to peel off of the dead weight under the pretense of getting yourself drink. Throwing his weight around helped at the door but in the water with the sharks, the tuna is gonna get you eaten. You look for people who might recognize you first. A very real risk in your line of work. No one so far. There are a few people you recognize, big names in the world of politics like Sir Baron and President Tseng. They run oil and mining respectively. Both are international and both could afford small countries of their own. It's quite a surprise seeing them out her in Vietnam. This is probably shady as all fuck, though. The thing that doesn't surprise you though is Thorsen's absence. He's not gonna be in the place where he sent you just now. Not with the way things are. Perhaps he even intended for you to find this mighty fine shindig.

Either way, it's no big deal. You're gonna get the job done for both Thorsen and Eff Bee. Speaking of which, you pull out your phone and start messing with the AR app. It's pretty fun looking at the place with the Hellfire Club skin. Some of these ladies are quite attractive if you do say so yourself. Too bad, they're either bought and paid for, gold diggers or sharks in suits. No viable candidates for easy contact. On the bright side, the Americans you nearly puked on earlier could never make it into a place like this. Right?

The crowd is pretty normal and you haven't discerned anything useful after about half an hour. You've gotten some pretty expensive food for free though. Oh, the joys of being rich. When you're considering hitting up Whittington and Co. again you see two "waiters" wading through the crowd that weren't there before. Oh, that's interesting. Spies up in this? You think so. They're not exactly what you'd call discreet. There's a girl who's doing a fine job looking like she doesn't want to be there, but the guy she keeps talking to whenever she finishes a lap around the room is by no means an ordinary member of waitstaff. He's muscular to the point where it's clear he's on something. He's twitchy and paranoid like a soldier. He's not actually waiting on anyone. He couldn't be much more obvious if he tried. As you're observing him the girl that keeps talking to him walks up to you and asks if you want anything. Your options are...

[] Fancy booze.
[] Fancy spread on a fancy cracker.
[] Fancy lobster something or other.
[] Fancy pastry.
[] Fancy a shag?