Mr. X completes his murmured explanations from the back of the alcove, something dance-pop-ish thumping a deep, warm bass in the background. While there are other conversations in progress nearby, they don't seem to have anything to do with you. The one you conversation not totally obliterated by the ominous pulse (of the music from upstairs) sounds a *LOT* like parimutuel wagering (betting/gambling) in progress.
** GM Note: Anybody with any gaming skills could try to make a roll and decipher what those freaks are betting on - streetwise might make also factor in --- totally optional, though, and apparently having nothing to do with your current "project"... **
Not to say that there aren't active conversations in progress, it's just that a lot of them tend to blend in to a background sussurus, pieces of each falling into the "holes" in the others, resulting in a mishmash of confused and meaningless wordstreams. Distractions. You begin to understand why The Echo is such a hot place for 'Runners to meet, exchange information. As you each sit there, ruminating on what you know for the moment, the well-dressed ork tending the bar points at Mr. X, then gestures him over. The second time he gestures, it is unmistakable that he'd like a moment with Mr. X. |
