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climbing up the walls
space spies get up to some space spying
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They've had her in this apartment for a few months now, since her last assignment. 

It's nice, a little small, nothing special. Cleaner and quieter than the homes of her childhood, but that doesn't say much. The outfacing wall is all window and this high up it's so close to being able to see the whole world, but the view is locked away behind ugly buildings neighboring hers, dirty asphalt scrawled with argon.

The apartment had already been furnished when she moved in, possibly in an attempt to prevent Sookhee from stealing the furniture she needed and drawing attention to herself.

Sookhee finds this idea mildly offensive. Furniture isn't very exciting, and anyway she's stolen plenty of little things in this city with nothing more interesting to occupy her time, and hasn't drawn undue attention once. If she were a bad thief, they wouldn't have recruited her in the first place.

She's impatient for her next job. They give her a small allowance for rent and food and electricity, but that's nothing compared to what she'll cash in the next time she finishes a project. (Her earnings from the last assignment would have been enough to buy a much larger apartment, not enough to buy a personal ship. Sookhee spent the money on a very fancy pair of earrings.) 

Eventually, her com lights up. 

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One new message lights up the screen.

나포구, 양화로 21길 3층에서 내일 저녁 10시20분에 대리인 만난다.

짐을 싸기 시작해야한다. 

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Finally.

They've given her a time and place to meet tomorrow. They've also told her to start packing, which means that whatever instructions she receives tomorrow will involve going somewhere.

It's not that Sookhee hates Napo-gu, or even dislikes it. She was similarly excited to move here on last assignment. But there are so many places she hasn't seen yet and so few that she has, and a new assignment means she's going to be just a little bit closer to touching the whole world.

Despite her habits, Sookhee really doesn't have that much to pack.

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"Third floor" means third floor of the fire escape in the back alley of the building. That's where Sookhee's correspondent is waiting, sipping a coffee from a paper cup that she bought a few counties away. She's wearing a plain, trim black coat and mirror shades. Her hair is pulled back into a tight, small bun. 

"안녕하세요? 오래간만이에요,"  she says when she sees Sookhee, speech controlled and precise despite her thick accent. "I hope you've been settling in well."

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"I have! Thanks. This city has lots of pretty buildings." The prettiest buildings are far away from Sookhee's apartment, but she doesn't mind walking. "But I guess I won't be here much longer?"

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"Not particularly. I have a ticket for you; the flight's in two days." The ticket is a small silver microchip. She passes it to Sookhee. "We've booked a hotel room for you and your partner. The address will be sent to you later tonight."

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Sookhee pops the ticket chip into a slot in her pocket computer. They never tell her where she's going. She won't find out until she shows up at the transit port and scans her ticket for the flight information. Sookhee is so busy remembering about this and being annoyed that she almost misses --

"My partner? I don't have a --"

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"No one has a partner before they do. It's just for this assignment. You have differently useful skillsets."

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Sookhee's skillset has served her just fine. "Don't I get to know anything about that? The assignment?"

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"Not any details, yet. There will be more for you in the hotel. What I can tell you is that... it relates to a number of crime networks we've been tracking. And political networks. There are a couple different intersections we're starting to take a closer look at, yours is one of those. Human trafficking. -- if that's going to be a problem, you have exactly 30 minutes to resign so that we can make alternative arrangements."

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When Sookhee was little, she'd thought that "human trafficking" sounded like a nice thing. Her hometown was unpleasant and unimpressive and it sounded appealing to be sent through traffic until you arrived somewhere prettier and fancier and more fun. There were too many people in the crowded slums; moving them somewhere else was probably a good thing.

When little Sookhee expressed this, her aunt laughed loud and hard for several minutes before lightly chuffing her upside the head. No human trafficking until you learn how to pick locks, Sookhee-ah. Then we'll see! And Sookhee had learned how to pick locks and learned what human trafficking meant. It did not, in fact, sound fun.

"That's not a problem."

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"Good. Your ID, then." She hands Sookhee a black synth-leather wallet. 

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She takes it, and returns an identical wallet with her fake ID from the last assignment. "Is that all, then?"

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"Yes. We'll be in touch."

She leaves first, leaving Sookhee alone on the fire escape. Her shoes are remarkably quiet on the metal stairs.

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She's supposed to wait for another twenty minutes before leaving herself, according to The Protocol.

According to The Protocol, she's also supposed to wait until she's back in her apartment before she looks at the ID, to make it harder for any cameras to pick it up and link the ID to clandestine meetings on fire escapes. But. It's not like she has anything else to do.

Sookhee pulls her shirt over her head and, inside the shirt, flips the wallet open and shines her pocket computer at it. 

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The card has the name Eri Tamako printed in English next to a very boring picture of Sookhee. The date of birth is about a year off.

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Well. That wasn't that exciting.

 

Sookhee sits down on the fire escape and dangles her legs over the side. She looks out at the lights of the city and thinks about being Tamako and flying through the stars.

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After twenty minutes, Sookhee walks home. She's already finished packing, which leaves her with nothing to do. Usually the answer would be 'go out into the world; steal some things', but it was too late for that to be a good idea.

She rolled around in bed until finally her com lights up again.

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It's an address that means nothing to her.

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Great.

The address means nothing to her now, but it's going to. She's going to go this hotel, wherever it is, and find out what it looks like, and then she'll probably go somewhere else exciting, and more and more addresses will start to mean things to her. (Also hotels have nice little soaps; she's excited for that.)

Sookhee puts the com down and rolls over and falls asleep.

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And in two days she goes to the transit port. Upon scanning her pocket computer at check-in, Sookhee discovers that the ticket is a fourteen hour flight to Naikeni. 

She hasn't heard of Naikeni specifically before, but she's it's a part of the Shizani system which she has heard of. The reputation is very elite, very beautiful, filled with elaborately structured nature and carved mountains and mansions filled with real, actual wood -- so some of the forests have to be real, but nobody knows which ones. Sookhee is delighted.

It's unfortunately possible that once she meets her new partner they might be directed somewhere else entirely, but at the very least Sookhee will be sure to walk around and collect lots of souvenirs. She's so glad she bought those fancy earrings. 

She shows her ID and smiles at the check-in clerk and is pointed at a transport to the appropriate hangar. 

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Boarding the ship is a long and tedious process. After lots of impatient shuffling, Sookhee is able to file onboard with the 149 other passengers. Everyone has an assigned seat and complimentary luggage compartment. After takeoff, nobody is obliged to remain in their assigned seat. There's a lounge, and a small restaurant, and a very small pool that is not thought to be overly sanitary. 

There are announcements over an intercom that nobody pays attention to, and then they're off.

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Sookhee likes space. She finds an uncrowded viewport and sits beside it for hours, watching the stars blur past. 

She doesn't sleep much in transit. By the time they dock, she's very tired. She stumbles through the Naikeni airport in a dreary blur, just alert enough to show the appropriate documents at the appropriate times and correctly answer questions when asked.

The transit port is, disappointingly, not very different from the port she came from in Napo-gu, but the port isn't what really matters.

What matters is that when she steps out of the Eastern Terminal exit onto a gently sloped glass walkway, she sees grassy hills all around her and mountains in the distance and she knows she did it, she did it, she made it somewhere real. 

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She flags a taxi. The ones here are shaped like the taxies in Napo-gu, but they are dark blue instead of yellow. A window slides open and she ducks down to shout to the driver. "그라쓰 스완 호텔에 갈 께요, 알아세요?"

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The taxi driver stares at her blankly.

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Yeahh, it was a long shot.

"I'm going to the Glass Swan Hotel, in Keipa City," she tries instead. 

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The taxi driver considers this for a moment and then nods. He taps at the navscreen in the front of the taxi for a few moments and then presses a green button, setting the navigational sequence in place. Then he steps out of the taxi and holds the door open for Sookhee.

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"Thanks!" she says, and boys, and climbs into the dark blue transport. The seat is very comfortable.

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The taxi driver shuts the door, still standing outside the open window. "Do you know how to -- once you pay --"

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"Yes, yes, I've got it. Thank you, sir!" Sookhee taps her pocket computer to the taxi navscreen. It beeps, and the screen lights up with a confirmation of the purchase. She confirms, and the navscreen lights up a happy yellow, the motor purring. 

The taxi zooms off, whisking her towards the hills. The scenery continues to be pleasant. As she gets further away from the airport, buildings begin to appear clustered in the foothills: lots of pretty, white sky scrapers, and clumps of smaller ruddier buildings scattering up the mountain slopes. Sookhee can imagine all the rich skyscraper-dwellers going to fancy lunches with each other in their fancy clothes and basking in the scenery.

Becoming a spy was such a good decision.

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After an hour the taxi stops and the door opens automatically. She's arrived at her destination.

The swan in front of the Glass Swan Hotel is not, in fact, glass, but the same sort of flickering neon holographic that Napo-gu had overflowed with. The doors beyond the installation were the kind that swung open manually, dark brown with glass paneling and weighty golden knobs that might even be real.

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Sookhee lugs her suitcase around the swan and tugs the doors open. (Definitely not real gold). The inside looks like what she's come to expect from hotel scraper lobbies: smooth black granite surfaces and cool blue lighting and and a chromed silver check-in desk attended by a sleekly dressed young woman.

The woman wears a trim black dress, and her hair is pulled back into a bun more neat and perfect than any aspect of Sookhee has looked her entire life. The girl's had some work done on her left arm; a neat stretch of blue and white ports, some of which are glowing, extends out from under her sleeve.

Sookhee feels very outclassed. "Hi," she says as she reaches the check-in desk and bows. "I have a-- a room. A reservation. Yes."

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The desk girl nods and turns to the screen of ledger, keying in a passcode with a click of evenly trimmed, chrome-painted nails. "Of course, miss. Your name?"

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"Tamako. Eri Tamako. The reservation should've been placed, ah --"

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"I have it here. Can I see your ID, miss?"

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"Right here, yes!" She opens her new wallet and offers her new ID.

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She looks at it. Looks at Sookhee. Hands it back with a small bow.

"Thank you, miss. I have a key for you..." She unlocks a drawer and rifles through it, passing Sookhee the small key chip a moment later. "Your friend got here a few hours ago. Do you need help with any luggage, miss?"

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"No, thank you, I've got it."

Her partner is in their room, probably waiting to meet her. Unless they aren't? Maybe they've gone out to explore the city after checking in; that's what Sookhee might do, were she the first to arrive.

Her heartbeat titters fretfully as the lift glides up 42 floors. It's embarrassing, really, how nervous this is making her. She's met a handful of other agents by now, and most of them were perfectly bearable. She's done more than a handful of things that were much, much more dangerous than meeting another spy, and she was fine. Why now of all times does she have to feel so anxious?

It doesn't matter, she tells herself. It doesn't matter if we get along or if he's an asshole or if we hate each other. I'll tolerate it and I'll get the money out of it and I don't have to care at all, really, about getting along with this person.

She gets off the lift and weaves through the hallways. 4207, 4211, 4215... 4219. She hovers her hand over the door for a full minute before she knocks.

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There's no answer.

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Hhhhh. Yeah. Probably outside somewhere.

Sookhee inserts the hotel key chip into her pocket computer and taps the keypad with it. The keypad beeps quietly and a blue light shines its approval at her. The door clicks, and then glides open, sliding to the side.

She tugs her suitcase through the door and sets it down against the wall, shuffling to kick off her shoes and then nudge them into plausible neatness behind the door, where -- another pair of shoes already sits. A woman's shoes, sleek and slim and silver.

Sookhee looks up.

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Sitting on one of the beds with remarkable posture is a very pretty girl about Sookhee's age. Most of the agents Sookhee's encountered have worn gloves; her partner's are of a fine, silky black velvet that looks unbearably soft to the touch.

Other than that, this girl doesn't look much like an agent at all. There's something of a doe-eyed quality to her.

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Ohhhhhfuckshespretty.

Why the fuck wasn't she warned. Is she expected to just deal with this -- how on earth is she supposed to focus on her job in the presence of -- how is anyone expected to do precision work around this girl, whose idea was it to let her become a spy -- aaaaaafuck.

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She's staring like an idiot. She needs to stop and instead start -- producing words, yes. Words. Language.

"Hhh. Ah -- nice to meet you, miss, I'm." She bows hurriedly. "I'm S-- Tamako. Nice to meet you."

This is going so much worse than she ever could have imagined.

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She was expecting it to be a man. She doesn't know why, really. This is better.

"Tamako?" Hideko rises from the bed and walks forwards, bowing slightly. "Is there a reason to call me miss? We're partners, I think." She offers a delicately gloved hand. "My name is Miya."

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That's a great point. There was no reason to call her miss, just like there's no reason to kiss her offered hand despite it feeling alarmingly appropriate. "Miya, it's nice to meet you. Is that -- your real name, or --"

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"I hadn't thought we were supposed to share real names. In general, though, I'd like us to be honest with each other."

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Yep yeah another excellent point.

She takes a deep breath and makes an effort to pull herself together. "That sounds useful, where it's safe." It usually isn't. As a general rule, it's a bad idea to be honest about anything other than the facts of the mission. Miya must be new to this.

"Don't know how safe it'll be, really. I don't really know... what we're doing? My contact said there would be more information at the hotel."

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"Apparently I have more information than you. There was a case waiting in the room --" She pointed to a thick, buckled trunk that sat closed on the table. "With clothes for our assignment. I was sent more information when I opened the case. Tomorrow night we're attending an event. I guess we call it... infiltrating?"

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"Yes? Infiltrating is correct. Are you -- new at this?"

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"Is it so obvious? I'm new to the fieldwork. Until now I've done some low-risk research for the agency, some messenger jobs... I think you're supposed to mentor me, somewhat. While I'll mentor you in the sort of gala etiquette we'll need at the gala tomorrow." A small smile. "I have some experience attending expensive parties. I know they're foolish things."

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"Oh - no! I don't think going to expensive parties are silly, don't be embarrassed! Of course I'll help if you -- need guidance, or have questions. Whatever you need. What's the gala tomorrow? My contact said this was about human trafficking, potentially."

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"Let me see if I can remember -- I don't want to get it wrong..." Hideko pulls out her com and clicks it so that the screen glows. It helpfully shows her the time.

"Mm. The agency has reason to believe that several different crime syndicates have branches here, and that they intersect in certain venues and events. The agency believes that those syndicates also intersect in various illegal enterprises. Apparently we received a tip that Naikeni is a nexus for sex trafficking, possibly with multiple contributing organizations. Naikeni might also be a nexus for parties thrown by rich sex traffickers. These events host enough people who've raised red flags that the agency thinks even without direct ties to the sex trade, one of these galas is worth mining for information."

She clicks the screen off and looks up at Tamako, widening her eyes just slightly. "It's complicated, isn't it? I'm supposed to teach you how to walk nicely in heels, and then we'll go make polite conversation while you plant bugs on as many criminals as you can. Those are also in the case."

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"...Huh." She picks back up her suitcase and tows it over to the unoccupied bed, then plops down beside it. "Are you nervous? About this being your first real assignment? It's sort of intense."

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"It is, isn't it? Do you think we'll be in much danger?"

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Uh. Well they are spies, on a mission with a component of illegal surveillance. It has never been clarified to Sookhee how much, if any, leeway the agency has been given by any sort of governing party. It doesn't really matter to her; she was going to be making a living illegally some way or another. But she does, if she thinks about it, qualify that as 'danger.' 

And then there's the fact that the spy mission in question involves infiltrating a sex trafficking ring, which even more definitively constitutes danger. 

Who let this girl become a spy. Is this what rich people do when they get bored? They could at least let a poor person know that a spot in elite society has opened up.

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"Uhhh, no! No, not really, miss. -- Miya. We might be around some pretty dangerous people, you know, at the party, but -- I'll show you how to be careful with who you talk to and what you say, so that no one gets suspicious. I don't think you need to worry, we just have to be careful. And -- you know, I have a chip." She wiggles her elbow. "So that even if the worst thing happens, the agency will be able to find us."

Technically if they get swallowed up by a sex trafficking ring they will probably be separated by the time the agency tracks Sookhee's location, and Miya probably will not be fine. But being scared would only make Miya more likely to mess up and get them both in trouble, so she doesn't feel too bad for lying.

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...hm. A tracking chip is interesting. That possibly changes the shape of the most efficient plan moving forwards, but she doesn't yet know enough to be sure.

"You must be very experienced."

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Relative to Miya, that unfortunately seems to be the case.

"I haven't been with the agency for that long. I've got a lot of experience -- getting stuff like this done, I guess. But going to fancy parties and talking to powerful, wealthy people... I don't have any experience at that."

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A shy smile. "That's my job, then. Gala events really aren't that exciting. Or difficult. I'm sure you'll fit in perfectly."

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"...Can I ask why you took this job? If you were already rich -- unless you're not, sorry, but -- it seems like you were already -- if you have nice clothes and you can already go to nice parties and go wherever you want, why would you agree to go into the field at all? Why sign up for this kind of risk?"

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She'd considered a lot of different risks. Joining the agency was the only one that had come with a suicide capsule. 

"Isn't it fun, to experience new things? If I'm already going to nice parties, I might as well be doing something useful at the same time. I haven't done very many useful things, in my life."

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That's so naive that it hurts her chest a little.

"I think that's really good of you. Should we get started getting prepared, then? Have you..." She glances at the case. She doesn't want to seem like she's disproportionately invested in the pretty dresses, but she's pretty invested in the pretty dresses. "Have you tried on the clothes they've given us, yet?"

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"Not yet. I looked at them, though, they seem suitable. Do you want to try them on and practice posture?"

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Is her posture that bad. She hadn't thought that it was that bad. Sookhee eyes how elegantly straight Miya is sitting and tries to very inconspicuously sit up a little taller.

Objectively, there are higher priorities in preparing for this mission than playing dress-up. Such as making sure she's familiar with the equipment she's supposed to bug partygoers with, or going over the layout of the building where the party will be happening, or reading up on every person of interest who is expected to be in attendance.

But. Trying on the dresses would not only involve wearing pretty, sparkly things, but also seeing Miya in pretty sparkly things. And there will still be time for everything else, won't there.

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Sookhee wasn't recruited for her impulse control.

"Yes, if you want to! Then I can practice the good posture while we prepare everything else."

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Hideko rises from the bed and walks gracefully over to the black suitcase. She moves like she's performing. (She's always, always performing).

"Here they are," she says quietly, pressing her thumbs lightly to the buckles. The buckles scan her prints with a quiet hum and then click open. Hideko opens the case. Inside are two pairs of glossy heels and two neatly folded evening gowns, one a shimmery gold and the other a deep, silky blue. There's a bubble-wrapped, clear packet of what appears to be jewelry.

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"...pretty," she whispers eventually, reaching out to touch the blue dress with a single finger. One day she's going to own things this nice, things this soft. Becoming a spy was such a good decision.

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The dresses really aren't anything special, but it's cute that Tamako is so taken with them. Hideko picks up the jewelry packet and starts unwrapping it, the material crinkling as she pulls out a necklace dripping with finely cut blue gems.

"I've always liked sapphires," she says quietly, offering the necklace over to Tamako.

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Sookhee snorts. "These aren't sapphires."

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"-- uh, I mean -- it's still! Beautiful! It would look beautiful on you, you would look -- I mean -- there's nothing wrong with synthstones. The necklace is nice."

It couldn't have cost the agency more than five credits, but like. If rich people don't know what rocks look like, that probably won't be a problem.

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"...mm. How do you know that it's synthstone?"

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"I mean, the weight is off slightly -- too light -- and sapphires can be lots of different shades of blue, but the light always refracts in them more than it does in this necklace."

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"How interesting. Where did you learn that?"

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'A life of thievery' is probably not an answer that will put her rich, sheltered newbie partner at ease. "Uh. My aunt really likes geology. She took me to museums when I was little."

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Her expression goes a little distant. "That's very sweet."

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"So... should we try them on? The dresses?"

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"Yes, let's."

They determine that the longer gold dress must be for Hideko and the smaller blue dress is for Sookhee. They turn away from each other to change.

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Her dress has all these ribbons in the back and Sookhee has no idea what to do with them. It -- makes sense, that dresses can happen like this, because she's seen laced up dresses in advertisements before, but she didn't realize that those required manual assembly.

Sookhee fumbles blindly at the ribbons and curses under her breath.

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Some of these curses she's never heard before. Hideko pockets them away.

"Zip me up?" she asks, still facing away.

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"What?"

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Hideko was not expecting this to be a foreign concept. "...my dress? You do up mine and then I'll do up yours."

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"Oh. Yes -- yeah, of course!" Right. Yes. People help each other with things. She's an idiot. She turns around, blushing, and hurries over to hover behind Miya. 

Gosh that sure is Miya's bare back. And that sure is a very pretty sparkly dress that suits Miya perfectly, and her hair sure is glossy and dark and perfect and -- Fuck. Shit. Focus. 

Sookhee zips up the dress very slowly and reverently, watching the folds in the glittery fabric shift as it slides over Miya's skin.

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It fits nicely. She turns around, and the gown swishes about her ankles. "Now you?"

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" -- what?"

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"...now I'll do up your dress for you?"

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Sookhee's an idiot and this mission is going to kill her. "Right! Yes, miss, thank you, I wasn't sure -- yes."

She turns around, blushing furiously, and pulls her braid out of the way. 

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Cute. She ties up the back of Tamako's dress with practiced, nimble fingers, and pulls the ribbons tight. When she reaches the top she pauses, and then strokes one finger lightly across the velvet, just like Tamako first did. "Pretty."

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!!!

"I -- ahh," she coughs. "Hm. Yes, it's a very pretty dress."

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"The dress is fine. You are pretty."

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whatthefuck

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That's gratifying. Seducing Tamako is gratifying.

She should probably examine her motives, here. Seducing this girl because she wants her and seducing this girl because she wants to manipulate her are very different things, and only one of them is useful. Tamako is earnest and puppy-like; it doesn't seem like Hideko needs to work actively to earn her affection. If the best plan turns out to involve sacrificing Tamako, seduction won't be necessary to make that happen.

But it is fun.

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Hideko has plenty of time to contemplate this in the time it takes Sookhee to recover.

"Th -- thank you," she manages, bowing slightly. "You're very kind."

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There's also the consideration that it's theoretically possible to develop "feelings" for people, and, should she get too attached, discarding Tamako might be difficult even if it becomes necessary. Hideko hasn't had to worry about feelings in a long time. She also hasn't felt a slight warmth in her chest like this in -- an even longer time. So that merits some concern.

She smiles, her eyes very soft and appreciative. "We should try the jewelry on you as well."

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Sookhee knows that the jewelry is cheap, but it's still so... sparkly. It does a better job of looking expensive than any synthstone necklace she's seen before.

"...ah. Maybe we should."

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Hideko clasps the necklace around Tamako's neck, grazing skin with her fingertips. Tamako shivers, and Hideko pretends not to notice. Then there are the earrings, and bracelets...

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Eeeeee!!! Fingertips!! Jewelry!! Sparkly!!!!!

Maybe instead of infiltrating a sex trafficking ring, they should just stay in this hotel and play dress-up with sparkly jewelry indefinitely and go to parties that are actually nice. And then travel the universe and find a real ocean, somewhere...

Except all those things require money. Which requires doing her job.

Also there's no reason that Miya would want to travel the world with her.

 

Also sex trafficking is bad.

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Hideko wouldn't mind traveling the world, but she has her own list of reasons why this is very, very impossible.

"Now we practice," she says softly, and corrects Tamako's posture.

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Sookhee does a pretty good job of keeping her back straight. Sookhee does a pretty bad job of not looking constipated while she does this. Miya's hand sure is right there. Miya sure is out here Existing in close proximity to Sookhee. What the fuck.

(Is this a test. Is this a spy test. Sookhee is definitely failing the spy test if this is a spy test.)

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They spend about half an hour walking back and forth across the hotel room, practicing bows and curtsies and more bows. Hideko advises her partner on boring-polite facial expressions for boring-polite parties, and angles at which to vaguely tilt her head to express polite interest.

"And then during the conversation, at some point... should you plant your devices on them while you're talking? I have no idea how to advise on that."

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"Don't worry about it! There are always chances, in a crowded space. Just brushing by someone... it's just like pickpocketing in reverse! The hardest part will be figuring out which of them are the most most worth bugging; how many devices do we have?"

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"Five. In a little pouch in the case. Do you know how to pickpocket?"

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“Nn — n — only in a theoretical sense, for — training purposes. For the agency. So if I needed to — steal an important clue, uh, from a target, I’d be ready for that.”

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“The agency didn’t teach me any pickpocketing. Am I behind?”

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“No! No, please don’t worry. It’s just because it’s my special task! You already have lots of skills, you don’t need to know how to pick pockets.”

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Hideko wonders what Tamako imagines her skills are. She doesn’t ask. Instead she tilts her head and says, “Do you think you could pickpocket me?”

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“... I — wouldn’t assume that you wouldn’t notice and be able to stop me.” 

She would and does assume that Miya would not be able to stop her. Except that pickpocketing Miya would involve being close enough to her (close enough to smell her hair again — not that Sookhee cares what Miya’s hair smells like, at all — but she hadn’t realized hair could smell that good —) that Sookhee would probably keel over and die. Which would be relatively noticeable.

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“I want you to try,” she orders lightly. “Won’t it be good practice for both of us?”

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“...maybe. You’re right. Okay, I’ll try, and we can see if I succeed sometime before we go out tomorrow.”

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“Good. Shall we go back to planning that?”

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They do. Sookhee looks at the devices and practices planting them on Miya's sleeve, purse, belt. They look over the profiles of shady figures who may or may not be attending the gala, and criminal associations that those shady figures may or may not possess. They memorize blueprints of the mansion where the gala will be held. They drill each other on important names and organizations that they will be expected to have heard of.

By the end of all of this, Sookhee's eyes are drooping. It's been a long day (two days? Three? Space travel always knocks her sense of time off kilter) without much sleep.

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She notices that Tamako is half asleep. That's fine; they've done enough, for tonight. She isn't worried -- at least, not because of their lack of preparation. Some anxiety is inevitable.

"I'm tired," she announces, rising to her feet. "We should take of the dresses now and get rest. Do you think we've prepared enough? Will it be okay?"

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"I think we're well prepared. There's still more time tomorrow to go over everything. Really, there's nothing to be worried about, we're just going to go to the party and talk to some people and then leave. It'll be fine. I think you're doing really well, for a newbie."

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"Thank you."

They undress and undress each other, carefully folding the dresses and laying the jewelry atop them. They get ready to bed in silence beside each other. The texture of the hotel washcloth is cheap and unpleasant; Hideko feels strange, using it, like she might accidentally scratch her face. She knows that that's silly. A washcloth is a washcloth.

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Sookhee is having a great time with the nice sink and the nice washcloth and the cute little soaps! These soaps come in different scents and colors: lavender, rose, mint...

The bars of soap are wrapped in colored paper and stacked in a small, perfect pyramid, which makes it pretty unlikely that Miya wouldn't notice a couple going missing. Sookhee will have to wait until right before they check out of the hotel to grab a couple.

Miya leaves the bathroom, giving Sookhee free reign to smell all the soaps she pleases, and touch all the shiny, smooth, expensive surfaces that catch her eye. By the time she emerges, Miya has already changed into her nightclothes.

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Miya's nightclothes appear to consist of a very pricy looking white gown, thin and silky and fluttering, rimmed with delicate white lace.

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Of course. She should've been preparing herself for some sort of bullshit like this, she's a fool.

Sookhee tries very hard to not ogle her partner as she changes into her own pajamas: a ratty grey T-shirt a few sizes too big. (She can see Miya's ankles, if she looks. She can see her legs. And Miya's brushing her hair and it's so long and thick and luminous and Sookhee wants to brush Miya's hair for her, it would be like playing with the prettiest doll a girl could hope for --)

She tears her eyes away and clears her throat and mumbles loudly to herself as she makes a production of rearranging the pillows on her own bed.

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(This is adorable. And the oversized shirt is -- a good look.)

She settles in her own bed, leaning back against the pillows and folding her hands symmetrically in her lap. "You're not scared for tomorrow?" she whispers, eyes wide.

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Sookhee yawns and plops onto the mattress. "No. And you don't need to be scared either, miss, we're very prepared."

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"They gave me a suicide pill. For if things go really wrong. Did they give one to you?"

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"That's nothing to be afraid of either. They give those to everyone, even the mail-runners."

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"Would you use yours? If you get caught?"

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She's too tired to have a discussion about suicide in the event of catastrophic failure with this poor girl, there's no way she's awake to say all the right comforting things that should be said. "Miya, please don't worry about it. We're not going to get caught. Everyone there is probably already spying on everyone else anyway. In the morning you'll feel more confident, okay? The first mission is always the scariest."

At least that seems like a thing that is probably, generally true. Sookhee is rarely scared on any of her missions, but none of her missions have been too scary.

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She doesn't even know what answer she's hoping for, really. She pushes the issue out of mind.

"Okay. Sleep well, Tamako."

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"Sweet dreams."

She passes out in two seconds flat, and doesn't dream.

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Hideko dreams.

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She wakes, suddenly.

It's still dark out. Hideko's in bed, she's in the hotel room, nothing slimy or cold or sharp is touching her.

 

She waits for her heartbeat to slow down. It's taking a very long time. If she wanted, she could scream. Tamako would probably wake up. Tamako would probably comfort her.

Her arms would probably be warm.

 

Hideko doesn't know Tamako, and there is absolutely no benefit in becoming reliant on the comfort of this stranger. It's more important for the girl to rest, to be ready and sharp and quick-witted during the gala, than for her to help Hideko stop shaking.

Hideko's going to stop shaking. She always does. She just has to wait.

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She wakes up when it gets light outside. She still feels a little achey and tired; that wasn't enough sleep to compensate for how little she'd rested on the flight, but she's used to this sticky, tired feeling. 

After half an hour of wishfully laying there with her eyes closed, hoping to drift off again, Sookhee finally gives up and sits upright in bed, stretching. Her feet are sore from all the practice walking in heels; the price of sophistication, Sookhee supposes. She glances over at Miya's bed.

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Miya is apparently still asleep.

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She'll try not to wake her, then.

Sookhee gets out of bed and tries to very quietly creep over to the case the agency gave them and her pocket computer set on the table beside it. She stubs her toe on her own suitcase, and has to curl up into a little huddle so that she can whisper-shout motherfucker into her knees without disturbing her partner.

This is not an auspicious start to the day.

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Miya goes undisturbed by Sookhee's cursing.

 

But apparently she does not go undisturbed by her own sleep. After a few minutes of Sookhee reading over their notes, Miya begins to toss and turn and mumble to herself.

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Concern.

 

Fuck, she probably scared her after all, with all the talk about sex trafficking and suicide and everything else. Damn it.

Sookhee tries to concentrate on her notes and give Miya some privacy. The notes are important, after all. Natsumi: rich lady who owns hotels and bars and a mob circle, that last one widely regarded as an open secret. Aki: young, low-profile politician, has been observed to attend nearly every elite social gathering the agency has flagged as suspicious. Kunio...

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Suddenly Miya screams and twists about. She sounds quite frantic.

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"Miss -- Miya --" Sookhee runs over, eyes wide. "Miya! Hey, hey hey, shhh, it's okay, wake up! You're just dreaming!"

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She jerks awake and clutches at Sookhee's hand, gasping. "I -- Tamako? I thought -- wh --"

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"It's alright, it was just a dream! It was just a dream, Miya, I promise -- sorry, I would say your real name if I knew it, this probably isn't as comforting -- not that you need to tell me, I just -- the point is that everything's okay! We're here in the hotel room, you're safe. Just a dream."

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"Just a dream?" she whispers, her eyes still as round and transparently horrified as a child's. "But I saw... we got caught, and they -- there were guns --"

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The poor girl's probably never even seen a blaster in her life. Is there no screening process for the job? Miya's clearly smart and has a lot of potential, but she just as clearly isn't ready for this type of assignment.

Perhaps Sookhee should reconsider feeling flattered by her own recruitment.

"That wasn't real. I promise. I promise it wasn't real. See the hotel room? We've been here the whole time. Miya, nothing's going to go wrong tonight. We're prepared. We have time to get even more prepared. Don't pay attention to the dream."

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"...okay. Did I wake you up?"

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"No! No, don't worry, I was awake. Going over our notes and everything. You can join me, if you wanna get dressed. I could make tea or something?" She gestures vaguely at the direction of what she thinks is some sort of tea-and-coffee machine. Sookhee... does not know how to operate those machines, but she's confident that she can figure it out as needed.

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She rubs her eyes, managing to look remarkably young even as she calms down and begins to straighten herself. "I'm fine. Thank you. I'll just take a bath, that calms me down."

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"Yeah! Yeah, sure, good idea. I'll - just be here preparing some more. Then." She goes back to the table. It's hard not to feel guilty for making Miya go through with this even when she's clearly unprepared, but it really will make the mission go smoother to have a second person on her side, as a diversion if nothing else.

It's also hard not to think about how soft Miya's hands were.

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Hideko sniffles for a few more minutes, and then slips out of bed towards the refresher.

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Inside the bathroom, she washes her face. Then she sets down the washcloth and gazes at the mirror as the sink runs.

 

That went well. Tamako got enough sleep. Hideko got to receive comfort. She'd feel more accomplished if she could pin down exactly what her goal had been.

Gathering information? She did learn some things. She learned that Tamako is tragically cute when she stubs her toe. She learned that Tamako is very sympathetic, and willing to put her work aside to comfort Hideko, who she'd met less than a day ago. (That says little about her willingness to jump to Hideko's aid when work is more pressing, but. It's still information). She learned that being hugged and hushed and cooed at by Tamako makes her feel better, actually. But none of this information was necessary to her.

The other possibility is that she purely wanted to be comforted by this nice stranger she'd met. This idea is more worrying. She doesn't know what it means, to want a person to be around her or touching her or talking to her. She doesn't know how to plan for that, or plan around it. She doesn't know what it's like to try to avoid hurting or using someone, or whether trying is even a good idea. (Objectively, it's definitely not a good idea. There's nothing she stands to gain from her own feelings.)

Tamako has a tracking chip monitored by an intelligence agency. Most girls who are trafficked do not have tracking chips monitored by agencies invested in shutting down sex trafficking. Trafficking someone with a chip is an unavoidably efficient way of revealing sex trafficking hubs to the agency.

 

Hideko turns off the sink and turns away from her reflection and takes a bath.

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Sookhee focuses very seriously on her very serious work and super does not think about Miya being naked in a bath ten feet away. At all.

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(Hideko is also not thinking about being naked in a bath.)

 

She’s trying not to think about anything, but it’s difficult. The dream still crawls over her (and grabs and squeezes and strangles —)

Eventually she emerges, clean and calm and perfectly poised, wearing one of the white hospital bathrobes. (The robe isn’t very pretty, but she’s surprised to find that she likes it, taking a break from dressing to be seen.)

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AAAAAAA okay but she is being seen, is the thing!!! This is causing problems that’s a bathrobe —

 

Sookhee tries to pull herself together and not make faces. Memorization. Important. Definitely objectively more important than Miya’s collarbone.

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“I was thinking, in the bath. We should plan out emergency escape routes from different points in advance, right? Just in case something... is it excessive?”

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“Oh, no! Making backup plans is never excessive, and we should definitely make sure we’re aware of every possible exit — for non-escape reasons as well, even. Would you pull up the blueprints again? I’m almost done with this list.”

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She pulls up the blueprints. These are of more interest to her than the flagged people profiles -- she already has everything there memorized, and she already knows that that's not enough information to juggle all the moving pieces tonight.

"This mark here, we are not sure on the blueprint whether it is a window or a door. One of us should check early on, when we arrive."

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"Any window is a door if you spend some time convincing it," mumbles Sookhee, eyes still flickering across the list of profiles.

Then she catches herself. "I mean -- yes, we should definitely still check. Property damage would -- not be helpful, should be avoided, yeah."

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She lets Sookhee finish her memorization.

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And then they can work on escape routes.

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Eventually it will be time to get ready. They dress each other. Hideko is not feeling as flirtatious as she was yesterday, but she still skims her fingers over the back of Tamako's neck because -- might as well.

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This is fine. Sookhee is very chill and undistracted by this.

She tucks the bugs into the provided purse alongside her wallet, and slings the purse haphazardly over her shoulder.

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Hideko takes a break from putting on her jewelry to lean over and neaten the strap. "Are you ready? Prepared to wear heels for hours?"

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"I've been instructed very well, 'm sure I can handle it. Are you ready?"

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As ready as she's going to be.

 

They take the lift downstairs together. They walk through the lobby, heels clicking. The elegant receptionist glances briefly at them, but they don't attract particular notice; this is a luxe hotel on a luxe planet, and many of its visitors regularly flounce about in extravagant dresses.

They take a taxi. It's a long ride, out into the grassy country and between the nearest crest of mountains and onward...

And finally, in the center of a sprawling and excruciatingly well-gardened estate, rises a mansion. 

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Well that's the prettiest house she's ever seen.

Also arguably the first house she's ever seen; the shacks filling the slums she grew up in hardly count, compared to this beauty. It's as tall as the hotel scraper that they're traveling from. Sookhee knows from the blueprints that the first floor has an excessively high ceiling. The gala will be hosted on the first two floors. There are four more floors above that, each boasting its own flared roof, and two below.

As the taxi slows to a halt in front of the entrance, she sees two thick-shouldered guards with charcoal suits and shaded glass implants covering their eyes, standing to either side of the front door. Sookhee's instincts gnaw at her to avoid their line of sight, dart away from the front entrance, find some way in the back -- but that's not what she's here to do. 

The taxi doors click open, and Sookhee steps out one clicking heel at a time, as gracefully as she knows how.

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Hideko emerges from the other door, and the taxi doors swing shut with a happy chiming sound as soon as it is empty. The taxi orb sails cheerfully away right back the way it had come, and they are left there in the shadows of the mansion.

Tamako appears to be hesitating, glancing at Hideko as though seeking reassurance about her posture or her wardrobe. (Hideko would have no critiques, even were it a good idea to offer any; she looks beautiful.)

Hideko goes before her partner, slowly ascending the front steps until she stands in front of the guards. Mob thugs, but she isn't sure which group. She smiles and raises one eyebrow at the man on the left. The shape of his forearms are mismatched underneath his suit. Weapon enhancements, presumably, on one or both of them. He still has ordinary hands, which means that the work was expensive, high quality. "The gala started at eight, yes?"

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"Name?"

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"Kiniyaki Miya," she says, with a cool smile. This is a slight risk, going with the fake name, but with Tamako right behind her she doesn't have much of a choice.

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He doesn't respond for a moment. A faint blue light glows from behind his right eye-implant; he has to be scanning a guest list. "Mm," he says eventually. "Welcome."

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She dips her head to him, and then glides through the doors. She can hear the tinkling of her not-sapphire earrings as she walks. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears.

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Miya looks so correct in a scene like this, natural and poised, melting seamlessly into a tapestry of wealth and beauty that Sookhee has never before been this close to touching, that for a moment Sookhee worries she won’t be able to follow. Some invisible peasant shield will block the door for her, or those guards will be able to smell the imposter on her and have her arrested, and she will have left Miya here alone, to wander into the mouth of this beast and get herself killed.

She folds her hand together and steels herself as she steps forward, pushing the idea out of mind. Even if that happens which it won’t — Miya isn’t Sookhee’s responsibility. She has enough stress to deal with looking after her own skin.

“Eri Tamako,” she tells the guard, and she watches his lenses flash blue.

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“...Welcome.” The doors open a second time.

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Her shoes click a neat line across the polished foyer floor; when she looks down, she sees her reflection in the black marble. Sookhee walks down the long adjoining hallway: all dark, glassy surfaces and a spray of pinprick-lights installed across the ceiling to mimic stars. At the end of the hall, a set of glass doors hold themselves open. She steps through them into a large ballroom.

The room is elegant and old-fashioned. All the walls are paneled with finely finished dark mahogany. Real wood. It's a popular style, for extremely wealthy people, to make the interiors of their mansions look technologically primitive. This ballroom is furnished much like casino parlors from millennia ago. Everyone in sight is dressed at least as finely as Sookhee, in evening gowns or suits or combinations of the two. There is lots of shining jewelry to catch her eye, and not all of the stones are fake.

She tries very hard not to gawk.

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"Now we split up?"

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"Now we split up. I'll take the left side of the room, you go around the right. If you encounter someone from our list or who says anything especially interesting, or anyone from our list, yknow. Come and let me know. Not right away, remember, the most important thing is to be as natural as possible." She leans in and murmurs softly under her breath so that no nearby microphones could be able to pick it up. She smiles when she finishes speaking, so that it looks like they were just gossiping.

She and Miya already went over this, and reviewing the details in public is nothing but a risk no matter how covert she's being, but Sookhee can't help it. She's nervous about sending Miya off on her own, and it's tempting to find some excuse to hover over her the entire night. Is this how parents feel about sending their young children to school? None of the children Sookhee's known have ever gotten sent to school. "Are you ready?"

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"Yes. Don't spend your worry on me, Tamako, you have a harder job." She smiles, small and delicate. "See you around."

And then she glides off to the right, weaving through the crowd.

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It doesn't take Miya long to pass entirely out of sight.

 

 

Well.

 

The only thing she can do for Miya now is be as competent at her own tasks as possible. She has to trust that the agency wouldn't put anyone incapable on a job like this. She has to trust that Miya's naiveté won't interfere with the intelligence she's demonstrated during their planning.

Once Sookhee shoves those concerns aside, the only thing she needs to worry about is planting bugs on the five most interesting people present, which she doesn't actually find worrying at all.

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There sure are a bunch of people here who seem plausibly interesting! It's difficult to gauge who is more or less important based on their outfit; apparently Sookhee can't trust synthstones to reliably indicate a lack of wealth.

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She spends lots of time looking at clothes and jewelry anyway, because she's entitled to a few job perks.

She's also paying attention to the glimpses of conversation that she's able to overhear without lingering anywhere too conspicuously. 

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Eventually she'll hear the words "backstab" and "revenue" and "attention on shinier targets" come from a guy in a suit, all in one spurt of conversation.

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Well. That could be any variety of rich-people-business-bullshit that he's talking about, there. Most of the people in this room are probably using those same words to talk about their - stock exchanges, or whatever it is rich people complain about. But she's here to investigate, and so she might as well investigate whatever he's talking about.

She sidles closer, admiring the artwork on the walls.

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"There are always shinier targets," the woman that guy was talking to is sighing. "And they always get courted with shinier things! That isn't exceptional. There's no reason to think you're being slanted, unless you've been doing stupid things like sticking out your neck."

     "Easy for you to say. There aren't shinier targets than you. Think I haven't noticed your security manning the place?"

"I'm a reliable business partner, that's not the same as being a shiny target. If you're aiming to be a target, that would be the reason your financial relationships aren't improving around here."

     "Oh, it's easy to call yourself reliable when the only thing you bring to the table is manpower, as though you could ever run out of your thugs. Being involved on the production end requires a lot more nuance, and adaptability, and being reliable is only the tip of -"

"Choosing to only put manpower on my end of the bargain is the sort of decision that makes me such a reliable business partner! If you're so adaptable, Kito, then adapt, instead of whining to me about your paranoia." The woman sips her wine.

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That's conspicuous. This might just be how all rich people talk about their shady mob-related rich person bullshit? But the Agency thought that this gala was linked to the sex trafficking ring, and that woman at least is linked to the gala, and so she's already found her first bugging target.

She wanders away a little, drifting through the flow of the crowd; it will draw attention to linger to long. (She's technically still lingering, just a little further away). And then if she meanders closer again on their other side, what are they talking about now?

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They seem to be talking about various "targets." Apparently a rich widower is in attendance tonight, being courted by a mysterious "them" for apparently monetary reasons.

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She'll wait for them to split off and then approach whoever ends up around fewer people to try to initiate conversation.