Hm. His new partner would like it well enough, at least. Jan knew little about the man beyond the information in the skimpy file he’d been given, but he was certain that anyone from a lower-class background wouldn’t want anything to do with the upscale bars Jan had frequented in his Old Life. The man would feel out of place! He wouldn’t know what to order!
The man wouldn’t know what to wear, either, and if there was one thing Jan had become painful aware of over the last few years, it was that clothes could be painfully expensive. Clothes! Simple things to cover your body with! Who would have thought it? It all seemed a bit unfair to Jan, really. If he ever returned to the Sky Level, he would pitch a few of his new ideas to his more generous peers: Fashion for the Destitute. Hm. No. That didn’t have much of a ring to it, did it? Outfits for the Down-and-out. Shit. He’d think of something, anyways.
Tonight, Jan’s focus would remain squarely on his new partner. His new Edgerunner. He’d been dubious at first, but the more he pored over the man’s file, the more certain Jan was that this Edgar Bloom could not possibly be all that bad. The man hadn’t volunteered, exactly, but he’d seen the light. And the poor man had lost his old handler, which would be a shock to anyone! Jan admired Edgar for his resolve. His courage! If Jan had to be paired with any Edgerunner, he was certain this man was the best of the lot.
Ed would certainly be impressed by Jan’s cunning and secrecy, too. A good handler ought to be able to blend into any crowd, and Jan was doing his best.
If Jan drew a few curious stares as he sidled over to the booth currently claimed by one Probably-Edgar-Bloom, according to the file photo Jan had studied, it was a testament to the efficacy of his disguise. No one would suspect a man in a form-fitting, exquisitely tailored, flamingo pink shirt of being an agent, would they? Of course not! And Jan’s sunglasses hid his features, in addition to being extremely cool. Even in this dim light.
At last, Jan made his entrance, his glowing pink margarita in hand. The effect, achieved by the addition of an LED-embedded ice cube, was nearly as beautiful as Jan’s shirt.
“Ow,” said Jan, bumping into the corner of Bloom’s table. He shifted to the side and sat with only the faintest, most manful wince of pain. Damned sunglasses! “Hello.” Better! He glanced at his new partner’s drink appraisingly. There was a lot one could learn from a man by his drink of choice, thought Jan, sleuth extraordinaire. “Whiskey?”