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Bad bad time for a ganger to recognise you... Thenine was hurrying through the streets of the underhive in clothing far more modest than what she normally wore. It was one of her off days, awarded for a job well done, and she had just been mentally counting up the credits when one of her clients that she [i]didn't[/i] kill had raised his ugly face up. Whilst the Mademoiselle took care of her girls, especially the ones who worked in multiple capacities, she couldn't make sure they were never in danger, so here she was.

At least both sides had been smart enough to not draw. The gangers had realised that shooting a girl wasn't conducive to a long lifespan, and she sure as hell wasn't going to start tussling with a gang. Combined with her diminuitive stature, generic clothing and abnormal speed... Well, she had bolted before the idiots had even realised she had tensed for a run, and had been halfway down the street before they had even shouted.

So, here she was, five and a half foot of alley cat running away from four gangers, her eyes searching out an escape. Obviously, the issue was complicated by the fact that she was, once again, the only person on the street with cat ears, but she spotted her opportunity, coming up fast in the form of a set of crossroads, one of which was incredibly narrow. Instead of running between them, she jumped up, angling herself so she could springboard off of a wall and land neatly on the other side, tucked out of the way and with the goons none the wiser. 

As the group thundred by, she pulled up her hood and leant back even more, making herself as small a target as she possibly could. They didn't even give her a second glance, and she couldn't stop herself from chuckling loudly. A trick as old as Terra, and the idiots had fallen for it like they did every single time.

She pulled a packet of home-rolled lho sticks out of her pocket and struck a light, seeing that there was a bar nearby. A dirty, hole-in-the-wall shithole, but that was the best kind of bar when you were trying to not stick out like a sore thumb, the abhuman blowing out a cloud of thick-smelling smoke as she stepped inside.

Instead of taking a seat, she made herself small again and leant against the wall, making sure to curl her tail up and conceal it as much as possible. Standing still as she was, the only sign she was alive was the glow of her lho, and the occasional movement as she tapped ash away from herself, surveying the crowd. 

At an establishment like this, where Arbites tended to execute rather than interrogate, she was hardly expecting a neat uniform group, but this was a right clusterfuck even by hive standards. Guys who stood like they were PDF, another military-looking guy, someone you'd expect to be on a street corner shaking his bowl and chanting about the corpse-Emperor, a surgeon who looked more off world than anything else... What had she stumbled into?