The Afterlife Club wasn't a place she frequented. Her only reasons for ever going there were for meetings, or to obtain information. This time around, it was the latter. If she wanted to go out for a drink, she'd seek out a less popular location, or simply drink in solitude. Many might assume that to be sad, but to Ula, it wasn't. She didn't want to stick out like a sore thumb. A funny thing to say, considering the bright colors of her skin. There was a tropical theme with the red upon green, not at all an accurate reflection of her true personality. Despite all that, she was dressed quite casually this evening. Over a white sleeveless shirt, she had on a collared vest with a brown shade that matched form fitting pants. The appearance was hardly feminine, especially with the big black boots on her feet. She was going to a club, though. Her assassin attire could invite unwanted attention. Plus, she almost never got to wear these boots. They would slow her down on the job because of how heavy they were. Ula was immediately greeted by the energetic club scene that was always flashing with pink, with asari dancers all over the place. She pushed her way past a crowd of visitors, knowing full well that somewhere, Aria was watching. The respected leader probably knew right away that Ula was here with a mission in progress. The second floor was where she intended to meet her source. Her upcoming job required an extra set of hands. One belonging to a body that was much stronger than her own. Ula's employer set high expectations for her and promised to pay double if she managed to find a person willing to do this with her. She wasn't allowed to know why, but she was expected to sabotage a computer system with a virus and then assassinate its creator. Who was heavily guarded by armed machines, and probably security systems with lasers involved... The job sounded damn stressful just thinking about it. She grunted as this came to mind, setting a hand on her head while she took a seat at the bar. As a matter of fact, she would like a drink. Why doesn't she just turn down this job if it's going to be so risky and dangerous? It was just too good of an opportunity to turn up, that's all. A huge sum of money, plus the chance to set some important people and things on fire. The itch for it really needed to be scratched. She drowned the reminder in the buzz brought on by her drink. The empty cup was slid away to make room for her arms, which propped onto the counter while her posture hunched forward. There she sat, silent and patient, awaiting the person who promised to sell her some information.