<div class="floatleft">(http://www.wallsave.com/wallpapers/1600x1200/smoke/196104/smoke-girl-196104.jpg)</div><strong>Name: Lori Bianchi</strong><br/><strong>Located:</strong>Arriving at Giorgio's<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Everyone!<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>Simple and classy (http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mz8lIkoRG_U/Ue9q3K_m6uI/AAAAAAAABcA/6Trj57f_wYA/s1600/5.jpg)<br/><hr/>Driving Music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ZbdFCBP7qQ)<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>The royal blue Nissan was gliding down the road, as Lori's shoulders danced with the sound of Bitter:Sweet, once again giving her a beat to get in trouble to.  Her hair was loosely teased, giving her a laid back glamour, even though her pale skin made it look like an apparition was driving down the street.  She had to resist the urge to simply throw the car into higher gear and get there faster, but she gently reminded herself that this wasn't that kind of event.  There was no pulse, no thrill, no flame to play the dutiful moth to.  It was dinner, and depending on how things went, it would lead to bigger and better things.  Of course, as the chorus started again, she felt that anticipation, the<em>need</em>for this to be exactly what it was supposed to be.  It was funny, how she'd been flirting with the idea for so long, ever since she'd started getting the shadier clientele to work with her.  But while she'd made connections since then, and while her rap sheet was definitely not clear, even since getting to San Fran, she hadn't actually ventured into something this grand a scale in person.  There was something nostalgic about it, a specter of her younger days, before the business, before Miami..  a hunger she hadn't realized was starving itself away in hands-off criminal activity.<br/><br/>Scheduling had been a bit of a game by itself.  Mondays and Tuesdays at the Iron Dora were closed, although she rented the place out sometimes for certain events.  Today there was nothing, and with her books balanced and her evening clear, she'd decided to make the most of it.  Giorgio's..  Ethan had actually suggested the place, truth be told, but Lori was only to happy to take him up on that.  She had a little bit of sway with the owners, knew the staff from her days of trying to make a go into fine dining, and incidentally ate there quite a bit.  She was a picky eater, and the owners liked the fact that she could pick out the techniques and ingredients they were using.  She saw them as artists.  They saw her as a woman of taste.  And tonight, if the whole evening went to hell, at least dinner would be legit.<br/><br/>The harmonica was starting to play as she pulled up into the parking lot, letting her Neon Marine drift to a halt with ease.  Lori was in no hurry to get out of the car, letting the song finish and swaying her shoulders to the tune.  When it did end, she opened the door and shifted her legs in the seat, standing on both at once.  There was a small metallic clack, as the sole of her leg brace hit the pavement.  One white arm gripped the door and lifted her body almost gracefully out of the car.  She had chosen a simple ensemble, dark with a nice slip for mobility, and it showed off her tattoo of an angry ghost in the middle of winter, crawling along her back and down part of her arm.  She shut the door and moved to the wall, fancying a cigarette before she went in.  Honestly, while she'd set this up on Ethan's instructions, she didn't have any illusions about her role here.  The lion's share of her part had already come to an end, unless a few of them bailed or turned out to be morons.  It had happened before.  She took a drag on her cigarette and took in the evening air for a spell, the soft sound of music and voices from inside.  Reputations were currency in this city, and like any currency, you sometimes got counterfeits.  She'd vetted the one's she had provided, but it was the nature of the business, that liars lied, and good liars didn't get caught until the cards were down.<br/><br/>After a moment, she took the butt of the cigarette and crushed in an ashtray, moving for the door.  She moved with a slight limp, although since it was early yet, the motion was less inhibiting.  She moved in, and the host greeted her warmly.  "Lorelei!  So nice to see you!" The man came behind the stool and welcomed her by holding her hands and giving her a kiss to either cheek.  Lori reciprocated politely, never one to refuse hospitality.  "Table for one, tonight?"<br/><br/>"That depends.  Who's cooking?"<br/>"You would ask!"  he scoffed.  "Giorgio's brother in law, Simon, is the chef this evening."<br/>"What about that one line cook you had?  Lester?"<br/>"Oh, we fired that useless bum."<br/>"Before or after my issue with the ricotta."<br/>"During, actually!"  He laughed, grabbing a menu.  "If you trust Simon, this way!"<br/>"Actually, I'm meeting some friends tonight."<br/>"Then why'd you ask who was cooking?"<br/>"If you brought friends, wouldn't you ask if Lester was still working?"<br/>He held up his hands.  "Alright then!  What group are you with?"<br/>"Hess, actually."<br/>"Ah." The hosts smile turned a little thinner.  She wasn't here for pleasure after all, he noticed.  He grabbed a menu and kindly led her to the area.  Lori slipped him an extra 100, which the host grinned at her for in thanks and left her to her devices.<br/><br/>Well, there was Ethan, already seated at the head of the table.  There was a somewhat nervy looking blonde with a white spotted dress, speaking with a flaming red-haired vixen with gorgeous tattoos all over her arms.  The blonde seemed a little stunned that they still didn't hurt, and Lori smiled thinly as she realized the kind of green they already had.  There was a dark haired woman in a biker jacket, and.. very interesting to see, there was a man there wearing a very nice steam-punk ensemble.  Lori's half open eyes perked a little, eager to see what sort of person would wear such a delightful attire to a criminal meeting like this.  There were just a few others, mostly in the form of a giant of a man in a Gucci, sitting near Ethan himself.  She remembered the last time she'd seen that weathered face, and wondered where his other half was currently.<br/><br/>"Good evening, everyone."  Lori said politely, less the call attention to herself and more to make with the general pleasantries.  "Ethan, you're looking sharp as usual."  She listened to the voices in the room.  The only other male besides Ethan and the huge british gentleman was the one in the steam-punk suit.  "Mr. Larsa.  An excellent choice to wear out!"  She moved around the table slowly, masking her limp as best she could.  "Tell me that's a custom make." Lori said with an impishly elegant smile.<br/><br/>Lori could be studious, serious, and even borderline emotionless, but she had her eccentricities.  And this was rather fascinating.  If allowed, she'd also be interested in complimenting the red-head on her tattoos, but since the blonde was reaching out to touch them just now, it seemed she had enough on her plate.