Kumi nods into her phone. "I'll be right over."

"Duty calls, hm?"

"The Bowers looking out for me as usual."

Tasha smiles slightly. "Goodnight, darling."

Kumi yawns as she heads for the shoji out. "Night."

"Night, sleepyhead."

"Rest well."

"See you all later." And she's gone out the door.

Aya looks up at Tasha. "Could we...?"

Tasha gets a sliver-thin smile and looks over at Ishaza. "I think we'd like the room."

Ishaza nods and stands, dusting off her skirts. "It's alright, I was planning to go for a walk of the neighborhood anyway." 

"There's a new shawarma place nearby. Quiet, but the proprietor seemed nice. You could go get to know her."

"Sounds like a lovely idea. Have fun, you two."

"Oh, we will." Aya kisses Tasha's thigh over her robes.

Ishaza steps out, and slides the shoji closed behind her. A soft giggle carries through the thin paper to her, and she smiles to herself. 

She descends the front steps of Kumi's house to her rock garden, and looks around. It's the Asian district - all in traditional style, with calligraphy murals and woodblock art on every visible wall. She follows the path of ornamental stepping stones out a small gate in the bamboo fence, and out into the citygarden; hydrangeas are planted along the path, with cherry-blossom trees still in the full of spring making an enclosing arch overhead. Here and there along the way there are fenced gardens like Kumi's, but mostly the buildings seem to have grown where they stand, often with living wood built into their walls and ceilings. The path winds and dips - there's no city-grid here. She thinks about the shawarma place and picks a direction at random.

She walks for a little while, passing a small gazebo with a cuddlepile of four or five people actively in session and an ornamental pond strewn with lotuses. There's a street vendor giving away chinese dumplings and bread buns; she passes him by.

Eventually, she comes to a rosewood bungalow with a calligraphic sign out front advertising shawarma in Chinese. Though the characters are unfamiliar to her, it's perfectly readable; she steps up to the door and lets herself in.

The room beyond is small, with only three low tables set up and a half-height counter with a console, behind which a dark-skinned elf in a business suit is sitting reading a book. A windchime dings and clinks as Ishaza comes in the door.

"Hey there," says the elf on the floor, not getting up from her comfortable position sprawled across her cushion. "I don't recognize you, are you here for shawarma?"

"I am! I've never had it before. Always something new to try in New Los Angeles. I'm Ishaza, you are...?"

"Ishaza? The Ishaza? Queen of the Vine Court Ishaza?"

Ishaza glances down at the elf's wrist. Only one wing. Ah. That explains that. 

"Yes, but you shouldn't take the title seriously. I made the game, of course I win at it."

"Isn't the Vine Court like hundreds of years old...?"

"Yes, and...?"

"Oh. Right." She blushes. "Anyway, it - would be a pleasure to serve you, Madam Ishaza." 

"I get enough of that from my roses, you can knock it off. And I still don't know your name."