Tiira loved Kabuki theatre. It was loud, boisterous, and flashy, above all else - the perfect contrast to the usually subdued and hush-hush nature of her work. Staring out from her raised booth, she couldn't help but be enraptured by the exaggerated movements of the dancers - so much so that she almost failed to notice the sound of the floor behind her sliding open. An imitation of [i]fusuma[/i], it looked and felt almost exactly like the real thing - minus the extreme danger of flammability.

The man that entered stuck out like something of a sore thumb in his kimono, unlike her - as much as he tried his damndest not to. He wore the comparatively simple haori relatively well, a metal cherry blossom pinned on either side of his chest. She glanced up, briefly scanning over his youthful complexion, broken only by a handful of small scars. The gentle tan of his skin told her that he probably came from the southwestern United States.

She brought her paper fan in front of her face in an attempt to appear demure, her black hair bound tightly behind her head.

"Adam?" She asked.

He nodded, and she nodded back - and he took a seat next to her, immediately appearing interested in the performance unfolding below them. The performers were taking on a rendition of [i]Yoshitsune Senbon Zakura[/i], engaged in a "deadly" battle; eclectic dance broken up by the thunder of percussion instruments and the sound of shouts and cries of battle.

"Is it good news this time?" He whispered, his voice rough and gravelly despite his apparent youth.

"It is. You've been asking us for help. I don't know why, but someone's been listening."

He shrugged, holding out his hand, into which she dropped a small envelope. 

"I don't have numbers," she continued. "But I'm authorized to tell you directly that it's... A lot. A couple thousand tons, at least. MANPADS, guns, explosives... In bits and pieces, but..." Tiira didn't need to look at Adam to know she had his attention. He was doing a good job of seeming invested in the Kabuki performance, truth be told, but the way his eyes darted over to her as if to confirm what she was saying told her plenty. She couldn't blame him for his surprise, however - her government had spent years feeding ELAN a steady trickle of weaponry, enough to keep it operational, but this was something altogether different - enough to equip a whole new army. A stockpile they'd been building up for years, stored in god-knows-where facilities and warehouses scattered across the country, just like they did with their militia armories prepared in the event of an American invasion, except far better hidden.

"...All-in-all, it's a lot, and they want you to know it is." She said.

"[i]Jesus Christ[/i], this feels like goddamn Christmas!" He breathed, quietly shaking his head. "How are you going to get them to-" he paused, abruptly shaking his head. "Never mind. Shouldn't ask. I mean, fuck - I know our people don't always get along, but... Thanks, I think. It's just a shame you're going with OTAN."

Tiira shrugged, indicating she simply didn't give a shit about whether her not Adam agreed with Brazilian politics.

"... What's the catch?" 

'There it is.' She thought to herself.

"Chump change, and help getting in touch with a... Special someone that has something we need. It's all in the letter. Now enjoy the show, eh? We paid good money for the tickets."