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Being an informant was nothing new to Angel. If you weren't making money to pay the rent and you weren't risking your neck with impossible odds against corporations that would snuff you without a second thought all you really had was what you knew and your body. Angel wasn't above selling either to keep afloat.
Though somehow, the information he was going to give away tonight felt different. Dangerous. Perhaps that was to be expected when the dirt he had wasn't about some rich asshole he blew or security keys from men who ogled him, but rather his own employers. The Vees owned everything this side of town so selling them out felt more than just stupid, it was downright suicidal.
The strobe lights of the club had never bothered him until now, where every flash seemed to blind, and the pink and blue color lights swirled around in a way that could be charitably described as 'nauseating'. He's pretty sure the suit he's halfheartedly grinding on is saying something, but Angel isn't much inclined to care, taking him by the mouth in a passionate kiss to have some semblance of peace and fucking quiet for the last remaining moments of his shift before the runners show up.
He pulls off abruptly, not giving a single shit about the guy yelling and jeering at him as he walks away.
Stopping in the bathroom, Angel braces himself on the sink. What the fuck was he doing here? There's bags under his mismatched eyes, and he finds himself lingering on his black cyber eye. Was all of this worth the eddies? Was it really worth risking his life over?
Honestly, could he call this living? Putting out for any suit that glanced his way to barely scrape by on rent, keeping his head down long enough to have to do it all again?
He splashes water on his face, stalking off along the dark hallways where all manner of woman and man pull each other along with whispered laughter. Pushes a familiar velveteen door open and is greeted with the equally familiar sight of a red messy bun.
"Cricket." He doesn't have to apologize for being curt, which is some small relief.
She rolls her head like she herself has also had some exhausting type of day. "Angel." How she remains stone faced even when planning to steal from the Vees was well beyond him. He glides across the room, nestling in to the leather couch like he wasn't going to have to peel himself off of it later. As he does his eyes come into contact with the companion that she had brought with her. Curly brown hair, perfectly aligned freckles and eyes so piercingly blue that what he is is clockable from a mile away.
"Why'd you bring a replica with you, you fuckin' psycho?" He just about screeches. "You think that thing ain't sending everything we say in here back to the Vees?" Both of them walked a fine line with exchanging information in a sex room at a night club, bodies loaded with cyberware that could be hacked or traced, sure; but a bot from the ground up felt like a different story entirely.
Her expression doesn't change despite the tone that Angel takes with her. "This is Pinocchio." Which seemed a little on the nose, but maybe he was being judgemental for a stripper with a drug habit calling himself Angel Dust. "And he was crafted by a personal friend, so there's nowhere to send anything you say, if that's what you're worried about."
Angel relaxes, knees that he didn't even realize had bunched up now swing over each other with a casual attitude he hadn't been able to display. "Alright…" He has a feeling that there's more to the story, given that even Cherri and Pentious, some of the most gifted people Angel has ever met don't usually build these types of bots, but Cricket likely doesn't have the full story and even if she did she would likely just tell him that it's on a need to know basis and he does not, in fact, need to know.
"So, you want to break into Vee tower?" He moves the conversation along. "I'd love to give you more intel than they deal with the A corp a lot, mostly for chemicals for I'm not even sure what. You could probably hitch a delivery truck. Might be the only way in not armed to the teeth."
"Actually I have it on good authority that you have relatively easy access to the building. There are floors in it that double as a hotel, right?" The hand under her chin and the scrutinizing look Cricket gives him are not at all inspiring.
He shakes his head, sticking his hands out. "Oh no no no, that was not our deal doll. I am not runnin' with your posse for a fuckin' reason. There's no amount of eddies you could cut me in for to make that worth it." Not to mention that if Val caught on to the fact that he was helping runners who may be working for another corporation steal from right under his and Vox's noses flatlining would be the least of his worries.
She hums like she doesn't believe that. "Well that's a shame. The friend that made Pinocchio here wanted something of Vox's and he's willing to pay a pretty penny. I was going to cut you in for 40 with how…vital your services would be."
The total hovers in his face and. Wow that was a lot of zeros. Enough maybe that he could get out of his debts with Val and leave it all behind him. Skip town maybe, even if he wasn't living luxurious it'd at least be a life that was real that was his.
God, he really did just fold for anyone didn't he? Pinching the bridge of his nose, Angel inhales sharply. There was one thing on his mind. "And how do I know that you just pay me out and don't rope me into gig after gig?"
"I don't keep people who aren't committed around, makes for sloppy work. Besides, you'll wanna skip town after stealing from your employer I imagine."
Sitting there for a few moments and deliberating before letting out a sigh. "Fine. I'll do it." With it comes the feeling that he's getting much more than he bargained for.