"[i]Only[/i] two Macros?" Andrea replied evenly, with a hint of humour laced within it. "Done. I'll confirm the currency authorisation when, and only when, you come into the office. I like you, Para, you know that. But I'm not trusting [i]anyone[/i] with that much money and then giving them a chance to run off with it. I know you can understand that."

She cleared her throat, ready to put on a show for the sake of the other patrons and the intrinsic surveillance technology that ran all through the city. Then her expression hardened sharply. Here went nothing.

"No, actually, you know what? Forget it." The words cut through the low trumpet music cleanly enough that the nearby tables glanced over immediately. Andrea stood abruptly, chair scraping harshly against the floor. "Two MacroCredits for a [i]secretary[/i] position? Are you insane?" Her voice carried now, controlled but visibly angry in the particular executive way that implied somebody was about to get blacklisted from an industry. "I come down here personally as a show of good faith, I offer you a legitimate corporate position, and you throw it in my face? Fine. Fuck you, too." She gave a short, disbelieving laugh.

A few more eyes were on them now. The bartender had stopped pretending not to listen entirely. Andrea reached into her jacket, slapped enough physical cash down onto the table to cover the drinks several times over, then pointed briefly toward Paradisia with the same restrained fury people used when trying very hard not to escalate further in public.

"Keep the change. You're an emaciated wreck, looks like you could use a decent meal rather than the scop you're sucking down. And for the record? The fact you think a corporation the size of Lhotse would hand the keys to the kingdom to somebody demanding off-ledger payments before they've signed a contract is exactly [i]why[/i] this was a waste of my evening." She took a step back from the table, jaw tight. "I'll find somebody else."

The last part came out clipped and immediate, like a decision made in anger rather than a prepared line. Perfectly believable. Exactly the kind of frustrated executive outburst the room would remember for a day and then file away as ordinary corporate arrogance. Andrea turned sharply and headed for the door without another glance back. Only as she passed Paradisia did she let herself murmur, low enough that nobody else could possibly catch it. Not even whatever quiet machine-learning systems were tagging keywords and emotional tone from nearby devices.

"Three days. Come in with your game face on. Don't make me regret this."

Then she strode past and away from her, out the door. And she climbed neatly back into her sky taxi.

"Let's go."