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AINT NO PARTY LIKE A SAFFIT FUNDRAISER (DAY :47)
Just prior to the mission, everyone will receive handwritten copies of Sheena Frey's lists, previously held by Lexa. These lists contain the names of friends and enemies that Sheena Frey believes are not associated with H+H1. The Darkling has acquired the list, and immediately dispersed it among the nest. Because he is That Guy. There is a neat note from him at the top of each page, indicating that one of their goals is to match names to attendees at the fundraiser and to either confirm or debunk Sheena's legwork. There is also the matter of the well-earned findings, dredged up from Ngozi's files.
Under the cut, you'll find the mods description of the venue, some of the NPCs you might find there, and other general information!
THE VENUE --
The event itself is a benefit dedicated to raising money for those injured in the recent bombing, as well as for the families of those killed in it. It is being held at CAVANAUGH HALL - aka "THE OPERA HOUSE" - a live theatre and performance hall in the Beta Block. Some hosts (cough Mara and Hux cough) might be more acquainted with the layout of the building since they recently attended a performance there.
Most of the fundraiser is taking place in the Hall’s grand foyer rather than the theater itself. The foyer is four levels tall with balconies overlooking the main floor on each level. There’s a fabulous stained glass dome roof. The whole Hall is primarily decorated in shades of red, white and cream - white walls, ornate naturally cream woodwork, stunning glass-like fixtures, red carpets. For tonight’s event, a number of small white cocktail tables have been scattered throughout the foyer and a small circular platform has been erected in the center of the room where a small orchestra is playing music at any point that someone isn’t speaking over the microphone for the purposes of the fundraiser.
The catering is extensive, the outfits are lavish. The security is tight, so expect to either be in possession of an invitation or get ready to use your credit card to buy one (this IS a fundraiser after all - and for such a good cause!). Sorry Nathaniel, this is mostly a mingling and eating party and not so much a dancing party. On the plus side: that sure is an open bar!
THE MISSION --
The hosts initially have a twofold mission for this one: Carata, Aoba and the Darkling have secured a private meeting with Goram Saffit, and will be picking his brain for information. The rest of the party is a free-for-all for intel-gathering and - you know - in case you want to actually contribute to charity. There are a number of events-within-the-event to experience as well, including a lovely and rather familiar lion tamer, a silent auction ( all proceeds go to charity!! ), a live orchestra, and whatever else you all want to throw in there.
THE ATTENDEES --
Most of Saffit's guests are as follows:middle (and above) aged politicians business professionals media figures
There are also a few theatre stars, but it's unclear whether they're actually there to support the fundraiser or if they're part of the deal with the opera house. Despite that the event is a fundraiser, most people in attendance seem to be Saffit supporters and more or less share his sensibilities - that androids are useful for production, but they’re just advanced machines and their increasing numbers of the workforce are creating problems for people on the economic fringe. Many of the politicians are for increased regulation of androids in the workforce, though that point is clearly one for casual debate among even Saffit’s supporters. By and large, everyone is mortified about the violence that’s recently plagued the city; some seem to be unsurprised - “It was really only a matter of time” - but no one seems happy that bombs are going off in the city.
There are a few people in attendance, and they are clearly there for the charity and not for Saffit. There are a few small time politicians, or media affiliates - and there is at least one journalist from a semi-serious EXTRAnet news outlet, though she spends most of her time camping by the bar and eating hor d'oeuvres. This is probably the fifth or sixth fundraiser she’s covered this year.
For the hosts who were not as gung-ho about fraternizing with a bunch of wealthy anti-synthers or attending fancy-schmancy events, feel free to take a much-needed and well-deserved break. Have a movie night at the Bearings - I hear that one flick "keeping tabs on your fellow hosts through the security cameras at the event and commenting on every move they make while throwing popcorn at the screen" is a great one. You can assist with observations, hack where you please, run detail and defense from the outside and even feed intel to the hosts at the party. Otherwise, you've got the Bearings and the whole city to yourself for the evening.
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Whatever the case, the shared memory effects Aoba on a deeper level than either of them are likely prepared for. At least nothing as drastic as Sly Blue happens this time - he just goes very, very red very quickly and pulls his hand back.
And then he trips over himself and falls straight into an ice sculpture, (a lovely human woman - emphasis on human for the event) which goes toppling over and shatters loudly against the marble floor.
There's a collective gasp, and then - silence. Even the string quartet in the corner has stopped playing. Every head in the center floor is turned on them, and Aoba is on the floor beside the broken mess. Trying to stop his pulse from racing, but he's frozen by what's just happened.
That, and the memory of Shiro and Sam stuck playing in his head. ]
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[Everything happens so fast -- Aoba is pulling away. Moving away like he'd been burned. Shiro whips his head around, ready to ask what happened, what's wrong. Is he okay?]
[And then there's a statue falling. An ice statue. And Aoba with it.]
(Are you okay!) [Echoing with:] Are you okay?
[Immediately kneeling by him, immediately concerned for him. Suddenly, abruptly aware of the crowd staring at them. At... the date for the celebrity sprawled on the floor and attracting a lot more attention than they probably should.]
[Aoba is the one necessary for their plan. Not him. Necessary for the mission. Because this is the only thing he can think of that a bunch of society types would understand, and dismiss on Aoba's part.]
(I'm sorry. For that. And for... this.)
[So, summoning up every ounce of Outraged Lance he can possibly summon, raising his voice a little too much:]
And that's what you get for sleeping with some Bout tramp tonight, instead of me!
Think about that before you walk out on me!
[He's cringing so hard inside. His brain just a mess of I am so sorry and please play along and maybe you'll get out of this. While eyes shift from Aoba to him, with more judgment. There are sympathetic looks thrown to the man on the ground. While he turns to stalk away, attempting to imitate Lance at his teenager-est.]
[God he hopes that worked.]
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Wait, no. It's fake yelling, he knows - he can still feel Shiro connected in his mind, and hears him apologizing profusely through the symbiote. But it's really happening too - he's really shouting, and about the awful cover he's embarrassed by no less. As if he wasn't humiliated enough already, that is the last straw his nerves can take. Surrounded by judging eyes and shattered shards of broken ice, he can feel himself starting to break down.
Shiro can apologize a hundred times as he walks away, but the tears streaming down Aoba's face aren't forced or faked. He's left overwhelmed, frozen, and undeniably hurt. It isn't until a woman in the crowd steps forward and offers to help him up, that he remembers to close his mind off as well. His thoughts can't be put into words, but the feelings he'd been feeding Shiro - embarrassment, humiliation, shame - they're cut from his mind like a thread being sliced, and contained in Aoba's once more. ]
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[Some leader. First the blackout, the rage, and now this.]
[Maybe Allura was wrong. Maybe she was wrong and the Galra are right about you.]
[That thought, that nagging little worry that never goes away, and the constant push of those feelings. They make his throat close and the nerves he'd been feeling since he walked in slam into overdrive. He's just glad he'd only had water tonight.]
[He has to cross the hall to get to one of the bathrooms. But he crosses the room quick enough. Head down. Stares at his back, and his face burning. Muscles tensing, and god, God he wishes he could be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He'd even take the Arena right now.]
[But he makes it. Makes it to somewhere he can shut the door, sink down to the ground and make a game attempt at being sick. Thank you very much, fancy hall bathrooms, for all the privacy.]
[I'm sorry...]
[It's never good enough, is it.]