Meanwhile--

Zoe and Oswald prepare to interview at a warehouse. Should they be dressing differently or anything? Presumably they are using fake names.

The fake names of [throws dart at the wall]... Robert... and... Margaret.

...If Zoe is awake. Come on, Zoe, don't doze off now. Bright and early for warehouse jobs.

Well, Zoe can come along VERY QUIETLY.

So long as she's upright they're fine. She will become more responsive on the way.

They can go interview for jobs. Oswald -- or rather, Robert -- can go first.

The warehouse is a squat gray building in the warehouse district of Valetta, protected by a white, diamond-cut fence about 8 feet high. Ruddy rust peels away the paint at every riveted joint. The gate is barred from the inside, with a small wooden shack for guards just inside. The parking lot is dirt surrounded by the gravel yard, with only one or two vehicles in it.

There is a path through the gravel and all the guards are walking on it and not the yard.

Well. He has information from a pantomiming monkey suggesting the ground around here does tend to bite. They can avoid the gravel yard.

Seems reasonable to Zoe.

(He wonders if Tereza was this close to the warehouses when she got her injuries.)

A guard stops them and says, "you can't come in here."

(They're military-trained.)

"We're looking to apply for jobs."

Oswald is NOT leaving. He has a mission and guards CANNOT stop it this easily.

"...oh... kay?" the guard says. "Hey, Baldassar, we're short on guards, right?"

"Yeah," another guard, slightly farther away, says. "There's only nine guards on the warehouse floor, now that Mark moved to Argentina."

"All right," the guard says. "So we should probably take them in to talk to Victoria?"

"Seems wise."

Wait guard position what have I gotten myself into

He nods like someone who is confident in what he is getting himself into.

Zoe keeps a neutral face and carries herself as solidly as she can.

Well she is their de facto bodyguard, that's basically prior experience. She'll do great.

The guard takes them into a room covered with huge stacks of crates, mostly filled with glass bottles. Those nearest the dock are loaded with nectar; those on the opposite side of the warehouse are empty. Long, battered wooden worktables take up the midsection of the warehouse floor. A stone stairway drops through the floor of the warehouse. Loud jazz music plays.

Oh stairway's gotta lead to the Mouth. He keeps following and doesn't stare.

The guard takes them up to an elevated walkway and through a door to an office. The office has a couple threadbare chairs and a stained and worn carpet. There's a record player on a small, poorly varnished table in front of an open window-- the source of the jazz.

A woman is looking through some papers.

They'll wait for the guard to either introduce them, or step back for them to introduce themselves.

"Who is this?" she says to the guard.

"They're looking for jobs."

"Hmm. Go back to guarding."

"Good morning, ma'am. Name's Margaret Jackson. Was wondering if there were any positions open."

"Yes," Victoria says. "But you have to understand, this is a very... discreet operation. We are making a valuable substance and some people are going to want to steal our manufacturing process. We have to protect our trade secrets."

Oswald nods firmly.

"I understand."