The bar's lighting shifted in pulses of purple-red, bouncing off a faceted disco ball overhead.
The clean, simple mahogany counter ran the length of the room, and at it, nursing a drink, sat the church deacon from that morning. Miguel.
Raphael pulled his hair forward slightly to cover the scar across his brow. Church and IFSA cooperation was limited at the best of times, but there was no reason to push his luck.
He found a position not too close and not too far, side-on to the deacon, and listened.
The person beside Miguel was a tall woman with heavy gothic makeup, dressed in a low-cut top and shorts that made no compromises.
She had some strange tattoos on her arms, resembling barcodes, which were covered by her clothes, and a very conspicuous and out-of-place pet collar around her neck.
A staff pin at her chest marked her as an employee, designation: Purple Rose.
