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The Dealer is staring at the table with a blank expression. He wordlessly tosses over your winnings. All you get from reading his mind is a sea on unending white noise. He's mentally bricked. Without anything else stopping you, you lead your four allies away from the blackjack table.
>You now have $1096.
>RASPBERRY SINSU ACTIVE. -1 FLESH DAMAGE TAKEN FROM SOURCES FOR A SHORT TIME FRAME.
Your party eventually finds an empty table to take a seat at. Adam is the first one to break the silence with a slow hand clap, "Well, well, well. I gotta give you props on that. Even if gambling while on a mission is rather..."
"Retarded?" Ashley smirks. "Yeah. It was. I had fun though."
"C'mon! You're telling me all of that brain power, all of THAT TEAMWORK, was for nothing? Did we not synchronize our SOULS, our ESSENCE???" You give her your best puppydog eyes. "All of that struggle was for-"
"Okay shut up." Max quickly covers your mouth with her hand. "Let's talk about the information I found, thanks."
"Hey, it wasn't just you." Adam narrows his eyes. "But yeah, less bullshit, more talking."
Ashley tries her best to hold in her laughter from your rather pathetic display, "Wasn't quite sure where it was going but hey, again, it was fun. Just rein in your, uh-"
"Schizophrenia symptoms?" Benjamin says with a cold, clinical tone. The sad face you involuntarily made would warrant a stupidly cartoonish sound effect if this was on TV.
"AHEM." Adam claps his hands. "So, apparently the word of us being catering staff spread QUICK and boy, these guards were DROOLING at the idea of any new food. Something about only eating MREs for the last few weeks?"
[SEEKER OF THE CITY] P-Company Facilities usually use MREs, not some random casino. Weird.
"So all I had to do was tell them I was a caterer and they instantly ratted out where their bosses were. It's actually up that smog filled staircase, up to the fourth floor-" Adam clears his throat. "Fuck. Too much smoke here. Uh, yeah, supposed their office is the one with the door labeled "KNOCK FIRST"."
"That's good. We can politely ask them about this misunderstanding they're having with Nicole's handler!" Benjamin's beaming smile is almost disgusting in how optimistic it is.
Max's usual shit eating grin deflates a bit. "Benjamin, I don't think it's that simple."
"Why wouldn't it be?" "That's just not how business works-" Max stops herself.
"I'm getting side-tracked. On my end, I learned a handful of names of some important people here." Max slides over a notepad to the center of the table. A neat, cursive script is scribbled top to bottom on the page. "Take a gander. I think it's easier than just saying it outloud." Only then does she remove her hand from your mouth.
"Bleh." You smack your lips. "Don't do that again."
"Only if you take your meds. Now, read." She points at the notepad. You grab the notepad first to skim the contents of it. Let's see what she wrote down...
