7

You edge around the depraved frenzy of the open bar and retrieve a cup of tea for yourself. You're about to get something for Nomi when you see they have a flute of champagne already. Drunken conversation, tinged with aggression and anger, swirls around you, a heady cocktail that a better class of security guard would be working to deflect and diffuse. But the badly disguised cops are just hanging around; some of them are drinking too. This whole place might blow up in a few minutes. You take the opportunity to score some fancy little Greek snack balls.

"Bad vibes, huh?" Nomi says, appearing at your side. They've finished half a flute of champagne and their eyes gleam. You help straighten their fruit-and-skulls hat.

"Lots of bad blood," you say. "People are trying to party through it." And the alcohol is making things worse, not better.

"But I squeezed out some useful information! Something is going on in room 213. Stonegrowl," Nomi says, taking your arm. "You love me madly, right? You're willing to die for me? And for the truth?"

"Uhh…"

"I need you to get me into room 213," Nomi says. "There's a story in there, I can smell it!" They finish the rest of their champagne.

"You understand that breaking into a hotel room is a crime, right?"

"What do you think is actually going on here?"

"Wouldn't you rather just have a good time? There's dancing!" Please, I just want a normal date.

"Are you sure you should drink?" Among other things, a drunk Nomi is a dangerous-for-me Nomi.

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