Maysah had irked Arbiter with her probing, secretly pleased at her ability to get underneath his skin. Nevertheless, she took his advice and let the uncomfortable silence wrap around her like a blanket as she nodded off. When she awoke it was still dark out, although the cheap neon glow of the nearby nightclub made it hard to tell. Maysah leaned closer to the tinted glass and looked up beyond the club at the Steel Citadel that loomed over all of Denver as a constant reminder of who really owned the city. She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth. Envoy murdered fifty thousand people and was handed one of the biggest cities in the US. Maysah was framed for the accidental death of fifty people and had to spend over the last decade of her life in hiding. Should’ve been a villain. Damn her for having morals.

Envoy may have owned Denver, but her city still played by some of the rules. Big cities meant lots of cameras, lots of witnesses, and lots of police—not a great thing for a wanted criminal. It was unlikely that her face would instantly be recognized the moment she got out of the car, but it would come across a scan at some part and bring loads of unwanted attention to the trio. The fact that Shade had run off didn’t sit well with her either. It would’ve been smarter to wear her mask the whole time in Albuquerque. It definitely wasn’t an option here. Couldn’t let Envoy feel threatened. Couldn’t let Stardust just take her out sixteen years ago. Maysah grumbled under her breath and pulled out a discreet pouch. 

Four glamours left.

“...this place is good for information. I found it on vacation. We're going to go in, ask a few unpointed questions, and see if anyone knows anyone who knows anyone useful. Questions?"

“Yes,” said Maysah to Arbiter, her voice raising as he left the car, “Who vacations [i]here[/i]!?”

She sighed at her unanswered question, pulled a glamour out of the bag, and swallowed it dry. There was no cringing, no painful transformation, no pop, really no fanfare at all. Maysah glanced at the rearview mirror and another woman glanced back. Higher cheekbones, darker eyes, grayer hair, thinner nose, and a handful of other minute details that made Maysah no longer look like Maysah. Hopefully nobody in town was slinging around counterspells, if that was even a thing. She frowned in the mirror. Almost the last of the supply of Hex’s gift for a peaceful life, and she was squandering it at three in the morning to go talk to a bunch of drunk lowlifes. 

“Don’t act surprised, and don’t call me anything other than Maria,” she said as she joined the two men. She wrinkled her nose at Arbiter’s civie uniform. “Well, at least I’m not going to be the worst-dressed person in the club.”

They entered. TONDE didn’t outright appear seedy, but any place that was open this late likely had a layer of filth buried beneath the glitzing lights and the pulse of music. Maysah right away didn’t like it, and it was clear from the way people moved when they entered that they didn’t like them. Maysah was thankful the Tower was there. Someone had known about them in Albuquerque, and if Shade had tipped people off about them heading to Denver then at least there’d be a shield to take the first bullet for her before she absorbed every cheap neon sign in this building and demolished the place thrice over. This had been a terrible idea. They should’ve split up. 

She was about to turn to Arbiter and give him a piece of her mind when she caught sight of a man beckoning them over. Someone expecting them? Already her danger sense was tingling, unless the balding man stuffing his face had been a drinking buddy of Arbiter’s when he was on holiday. She glanced at her two compatriots and then moved towards the man. No point in running from him. She waltzed up to his table and gave him a quick once over. Wealthy, or at least dressed to convey wealth, but with a questionable taste in jewelry. Shady, but only because of his environment and the fact that he appeared to be eating...was that foie gras? She couldn’t stop the disapproving frown. 

“What do you want?” she said, a sour hint of annoyance on her voice. 

“More of what you want. A Union Jack, a soccer mom, and a cop just walked in,” said the man. His voice was surprisingly nasally yet refined. He gestured at them with his fork. “Unless you’re just drunk and lost, you’re here for information.” He took a bite of food and smiled. “Can help with that.”

“We could just be here to get to the point of becoming drunk and lost,” said Maysah, sliding into a seat. “I’ll settle for information, but let me know who we’re talking to first. I take it you’re one of Envoy’s envoys?” she asked, pronouncing the name differently than the word and smiling at her own cleverness.