Soren grimaced at the sight of the elf woman, but not because she was an elf, race played no role to him.  It was the tattoo on her face that made him stop and start towards an alley to the side of the building, which had a ton of racial slurs aimed at anything that was considered un-elven on the opposite wall of The Coffee Shop.  [i]'Patchworks, of course.  They're at every goddamn turn'[/i]

	He leaned on the elven establishment's wall, tapping the side a few times when he remembered an old friend from the militant police up top, an elf that had probably been his closest friend before the human had up and left Polis.

	[b][Central Polis, Seven Years Prior][/b]

	A significantly younger looking, out-of-uniform Soren came out of a bar with a drunk elf by the name of Mortoris, the former having to lean on his long time friend.

	"Soooooren... ya listenin'?  'Cause I-Imma do sumthin' no one else on thiz planet'll do fer ya..."  The drunk one stammered.

	"If you're gonna get all sappy with me, Mort, I don't wanna hear it."

	"Nah, nah... it ain't nuthin' like, *hic* that..."

	"Then what is it, you drunk little elf?"  The olive-skinned officer had to stop and laugh at that for a moment.

	"I'mma do a thing... a thing that'll make you conzi-, conshi-, like an elf..."

	"And how are you gonna do that without sticking nails through my ears?"

	"I'm makin' you, uh, what'sh the werd..?  Oh! Elven.. Elvenkin, I think."  The drunkard pulled a laminated card from his pocket, and without missing a beat signed it in a blue pen, his signature perfect despite his current state, then handed it to the human sniper.  "This'll git you anywherr, an' I mean anywherr, that keeps hoomans out... ya ken even brin' a frien'..."  The elf passed out after what Soren assumed was 'friend'.

	He carried the alcoholic home in a mile long, uneventful trip.

	[b][Present Day][/b]

	Soren smirked and pulled his wallet out, removing the signed card from Mortoris from one of the many pockets that usually held credit or debit cards.  He made his way out of the alley with the piece of old plastic in his right hand, the left training towards the standard-issue pistol on his chest in case someone tried something.  Patchworks weren't to be trusted in any way, shape, or form.  But the Circuit had unspoken rules, one of which was to watch out for your kin.

	"Hey, Rainbow, I want in."  He stated bluntly, holding the card out to the small bouncer.  It was quiet clearly stated that Soren, picture included on the ID, was to be given the same rights as any elf that existed freely.  All there was to do now was wait for the response.