You spend way too much time here, DaFino.
Shadows is appropriately dim, everything covered in a lurid red glow as if you're seeing it through a filter of blood. Everywhere except the stage which is alive in swirling light as Temptation dances her set to men shouting cheers and wolf-whistles. Is this your table? You've been here often enough I bet. Watching her. Watching over her. Which is it? What's the deal there? Everyone can see you're Loyal, that's not in doubt, but why is that?
It's crowded too. Hot. Music pumping in a low steady thrum. You can dim it of course, link into the counter frequency and turn it down or cancel it right out. Your specs let you see the local 'face overlay. People have public profiles floating over their head like strange predators, ready to dive in and eat whatever's left of their souls. Some of profiles are poor fakes, obvious masks, like the badly done fake ID's of the 20th. Some are excellent lies. 'Upstanding businessmen' who live too high on the hog or make deals in the corners and private rooms.
Everything else has an advertisement attached to it like a tumor. The local 'face broadcasts 25 local peepshows you could watch simultaneous to Temptation doing her stuff and thousands of non-local ones piped in from wherever. Or you could gamble: sports, cards, you name it. If you know the right access codes you can place a bet on the number of bodies there will be in the undercity by morning or buy a friend or two for the night, in whatever flavor you like.
So tell me about your last job. Why does it still piss you off? And the one you're on now... the one you're about to finish up when your mark shows. Why did you almost turn it down? Is for one of the 'Easties' again? The wealthy inhabitants of the East Terrace?