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</div>Rrhani "Red" Lerrmah was late, as usual. "'Scuse please, comin' through...<i>Vrak, tzzrt, Hnahagrr glarch! Kdreh hadz!" </i>She wormed her way past the large humanoid in a striped suit that would look more appropriate on one of the bodyguards that frequented Radius, cursing it in Mrinari, her native language. she made it to the grav-shaft and bounced of the far wall, slapping the button that would take her down from the grey and boring surface of Icarus to the colourful and exciting  Neon Hag  level.<br/><br/>The pocket of nothingness she was standing on vanished and she dropped like 46 kilos of meat and bone down the seemingly bottomless shaft, springing out of the opening at her level before the gravity field had fully coalesced beneath her. Dangerous, but it cut a full three seconds off her commute.<i>I really ought to just move back into the damned club rooms...</i>But she liked the apartment she was renting. It was more expensive but it was a lot more luxurious.<br/><br/>She arrived at the club's back entrance with six minutes to spare, and managed to get herself signed in with one minute to spare.  Ser Apophixea did not tolerate lateness. She checked the bulletin board in the staff lounge and grimaced. It was a damn good job she wasn't late. She made her way to the office and stood with the others, ears flat. Mrinka are not telepathic, they have no ability of any sort in that direction and "listening" to the Boss always gave her a headache. It also made her fur stand on end like she was getting a static charge (or, as had been noted by some, like an Earth feline that was looking at a ghost). Unaware that she was even doing it, her hands were stroking her tail, smoothing the fur down unconsciously.<br/><br/>When Bilroa was given it's summary marching orders, her ears came back up.<i>'Bout time. That thing always getting on my nerves. </i>it wasn't for nothing that Red was standing as far away from the creature as possible.<br/><br/>And then there was the final any questions.<br/><br/>"<i>Grr, Vrat.</i>" It didn't matter what spoken language she used, the words<i>No, Boss</i>would be there for the telepathto read in whatever form of language they used internally.<br/><br/>Dismissed then, Red headed to the locker room to pull off her street boots and put on the light, soft ylalla-hide slippers she wore for dancing. Heading down to the bar, the feline skipped lightly up onto it, did a pirouette, her tail streaming out floofily behind her, before ending in what could almost be a lotus position in a large empty space between two sets of traditional beer pumps. ... Form follows function, and the hand pump was still the best way to get some types of beer from the cask in the basement up to the glass in the bar.<br/><br/>"Rrrr. Not too many folks in just yet," she spoke to the bartender just going off shift. "Anyone I should know about?" The human male shrugged pointed out a couple of possible folks to watch and vanished. "Rreh. Oh well, here's to a quiet day at the office!" She helped herself to a bottle of spring water, which would go on her tab and be deducted from her wages. toasted herself in the mirror behind the bar, and took a sip.