[center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/240318/ed07ef29c0411f1b064478dccdcd2520.png[/img][/center] [@Kumbaris][@Almalthia][@Pilatus] Julia turned when she hear the door open again, and looked back with one eye just in case Remo had come back and she'd relaxed too soon. Nah, it was just an Heir, albeit a seemingly particularly important one, with a brightly colored dressed plus one. Julia quickly lost interest, and looked away. Heir's business was heir's business. E Street thrived by knowing when to keep their nose clean. Julia would never belong here. The Spire was her retirement reward. It was not, and probably never would be, the place she thought of as home. Xiang then adressed Julia, and gave her an offer. 1000 credits for some temporary bodyguard work. Easy money. If things didn't kick off with Black Maria, they weren't going to be kicked off by anybody. Julia didn't have her gun, but she didn't need it. If you need to use a gun during a shift of bodyguarding, something has gone terribly wrong. As Xiang left the table, Julia finished her Mangonada in several sips so that she could still savour the flavours. She then got up and briskly followed Xiang with large strides so that she caught up by the time Xiang reached the booth table. The current two residents were the people Julia had seen enter the club, and she retroactively tried to recall anything important they might have said on arrival. Heir's business was heir's business, until an heir paid Julia to make it her business. [color=7893E7]"C'mon, Xiang. They're here to enjoy themselves,"[/color] added Julia as she took one of the stools facing the comfortable booth seats, and opened the bottle that Xiang had put down to pour a large measure of wine in each of the glasses. Julia had been involved in many a talk or meeting like this. She had watched her own bodyguards use all of their little tricks of the trade. Being on the other side of that, was very novel. The older grey-haired woman flashed a pleasant, respectful smile at both Chandi and Alese as she poured the wine using her simple, no-frills spartan robotic arm. She was wearing a rather shiny neo-retro leather jacket over a silver crop top. The woman was dressing her age, wearing an updated version of the kind of thing she'd have likely been wearing when she was young. She was, looking around, the oldest person in the club by far.