His long red hair was tied into a small ponytail, the remainder going down to the bottom of his neck. One black shoe stepped forward, and then another, each belonging to a white pants legging. Accompanying the white pants is an open white suit, a hand tugging at the dark gray shirt underneath. The red tie just above the shirt flopped as the tugging continued. It stopped, as if it was making too much noise for the coming yawn. The yawn belonged to a young man named Arthir, his pink eyes fixated on a large building. But then, the very same eyes looked over to a nearby fountain. On the ground made of marble, he read something in gold text.

"Greg...Parlor," Arthir read aloud. Greg Parlor? He dismissed the name until he saw another. Then, one more name next to that one. Now that he had noticed one, he noticed almost an innumerable amount of names in gold writing! And then there it was again! Greg Parlor! "Huh. Whoever this 'Greg Parlor' is must've played a hand in constructing this place." Arthir turned, surveying the amount of names on the marble floor. "Did all of these people help?"

He marched on, tossing the thought away. The building, now close to the entrance, had even more names on the pillars. And low and behold, there the name was again. Greg Parlor. Wanting to say something about this, Arthir stared. However, nothing came to mind. So he walked closer to the glass doors. They slid open, Arthir feeling a significant change in temperature around him. The coolness from inside this building, the 'Golden Horn' as the large letters implied, made it seem like winter came early. He walked inside. His eyes checked, firstly, the colorful glass ceiling. Was it glass? He couldn't tell actually. Different colors that reminded him of stained glass was above him. Below him, there was beige marble with a unique design. A pale-green line coiled and bent, weaving into more green lines to form a strange symbol, like a snake. This symbol repeated again, per tile.  The walls, made of some sort of smooth stone, had the same beige as the floor did. He took a deep breath, smelling what he presumed to be the freshness rising from said stone. There was an atmosphere that gave off a 'luxurious' vibe, that's for sure. His attention was pulled away from examining the insides of this building, hearing someone call to him with 'sir'. He looked over, and then smiled, strolling over to the person behind the desk.

He was a man, about middle-aged, probably just working here to get by in life. Didn't look like he had any kids, at least, not to Arthir. He looked to relaxed, and his hair wasn't showing signs of stress like most parents. The clerk, wearing a black suit that Arthir presumed to be the uniform for this place, bowed.

"Welcome to the Golden Horn." With that said, he rose from the bow. "How may I be of service?"

Arthir...didn't know where he was, so it wasn't like he had any already made plans. He stuck with being himself, asking the basics.

"What is this place?" he asked, shrugging as he did.

The middle aged man started to frown. "Are you lost? Only members are allowed entry way during this week."

Arthir stared before looking back to the amazing interior of the building. He wanted to explore deeper, but...he obviously wasn't a member of anything.

"Either that, or family members of Greg Parlor are allowed. I suppose I-"

Arthir took this as a chance to improve his, how he calls it, 'tactical verbal persuasion' skills. He got in character, thinking about most other rich kids besides himself. Spoiled. Loud. Obnoxious. He had this easy, scrunching up his face and raising his head whenever he spoke. "Of cooourse I'm part of the Parlor branch family tree!" he said, adding a posh British accent to his speaking.

The worker smiled. "A-ah, I see. It would be a pain to leave my station to show someone out. May I see your ID?"

"How dare you ask for my-...! M-my what?" Arthir broke character, staring.

"Your ID, Master Parlor. You...do have one, do you not?"

Arthir's eyes lowered, a hand coming to his chin to rub it. Out of all the situations his lying had got him in, not once had he hit an authentication roadblock. This... This may be more troublesome than he thought.

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The clerk stood, hand extended out to the thinking Arthir. "Your ID," he repeated, gesturing with his gloved hand, "may I have it to verify that you are indeed with the Parlor family?"

Still standing there in his thinking pose, Arthir was actually a bit stumped. Was this as far as he'd go? Just a 'hey, how's it going, okay see you later' talk session with the clerk? No way. There has to be a way around this through using only his words. It was obvious, yeah, that he could just sneak past the guy. But this was a journey about forging his tongue into silver! A-at least, that's how his friends back in Konoha put it. The clerk started speaking, forcing him to come up with something, anything, to try and get more information out of this guy about the Parlor's. Maybe there's a small piece of detail he can use and expand off of.

"If you do not have a way to verify your identity," the worker started, retracting his hand, "I'm afraid I will have to ask you to see yourself out-"

"Why should I bother with IDs? Everyone knows me, do they not?!" Arthir said, back in his persona. "Well? Do they, or do they not?!"

"W-well," the worker paused to stare, "while it's true others may know your family's name due to Master Greg, I do not recognize-"

Arthir cut off the worker, finding a little something to work with. Familiarity, the holding up of someone 'important' like himself, and belonging to an equally important group. These were the basic things to keep him afloat for now. "I honestly don't have time for such nonsense. I do not recognize you as a matter of fact! Where is the female worker?!" he said, looking around with exaggerated movements. He didn't know if such a worker existed, but it was a fifty-fifty shot. "She knows me better than you do. No," Arthir pointed at the man, standing still now, "she knows me better than you ever will now!"

"B-but sir, Neiomi isn't-"

Neiomi? A name. And the way this man was talking, he figured she wasn't in today. Arthir smiled wide on the inside, trying his best to maintain character as he had more to go off of. "Neiomi! That's her name!" Arthir interrupted again, using this new information to his advantage. "Neiomi will be happy to see me if she's here! Show her to me! Go on then!"  he requested, pretty confident in his thinking the woman was here.

The middle aged man stared. He stiffened when Arthir turned to him, a dark look in his eyes as he smiled wickedly.

"Or do you wish to see my father?"

"M-Master Greg?"

Arthir stared briefly, paying attention to the worker's reaction. He noticed a look of suspicious crossing their face. Usually, this meant something had happened to cause what he had just suggested to not come to pass. So, he decided to change up the story a bit.

"No. My father is not him. Show's how much you know of me."

"Ah," the worker nodded, "understandable. I've heard Master Greg has been-... Er-... Coping."

Coping? Was there a lost in the family? Or maybe he was dealing with some sort of illness? Either way, Arthir nodded to the worker, looking away from the man to start pacing back and forth in place. "Yes, coping, it is terrible. My father, brother to uncle Greggy, is currently helping him through." Arthir's pacing stopped as he glared at the worker. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to leave his, as you put it, 'coping' brother, to come here over such nonsense, hm?"

Gulping, the clerk spoke, his tone meek. "W-what is...your father's name exactly?"

Arthir revealed a smile that would almost hint at madness within his mind. "You'll know when you see him today, unless you do something for me." Arthir winked. "You know, so we can by pass all of this next time. Okay?"

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Leaving the Golden Horn with a black card in his hand, he smiled back to the clerk. "Be seeing you then! I'll put in good words for you with my father!" Arthir said, the sliding doors closing. As he turned away from the waving clerk, he checked the card he was holding. He managed to snag a VIP card, that was apparently able to grant him all access. Access to what exactly? He had no clue. However, it costed about one hundred and fifty thousand ryo. Or at least, it would have, had he not lied. He still wasn't sure who the 'Parlor's were. However, there must have been some sort of tragedy in the family to cause the big head, Greg Parlor, to go into coping. If they were as big and prominent as the middle aged man made them out to be, then surely, he could ask almost anyone about them. Maybe he'd head to the captain as 'Lee', and ask about this 'Greg Parlor'.

He snapped out of his plotting, gazing at the card again. So much money for this little piece of plastic. What the hell do you even get for having this? Then, at the bottom of the card, Arthir spotted fine print. It read the following:

"To those who have this card, thank you generously for your handsome investment! As repayment, we shall grant you full access to all foods, dirnks, hotel lodging, and just about anything that requires money and time! You are now our VIP! You are our very important guest! Please enjoy your time at the Golden Beetle!"

Arthir smirked. "Dirnks? Over a hundred grand dropped on a card, and there's a typo?"

He rolled his eyes, dismissing the fine print. The next thing he spotted was his photo. It was him as he was now, ponytail, white suit, the works. Looking dashing as ever. Below the picture was a scroll, with 'VIP' written on it in gold letters. He tilted the card, watching said letters shimmer from the sunlight.

"Classy," he commented. Arthir pocketed it, and began to head home. "Maybe some other time, I'll check out what's beyond the front desk."

And with that, one last glance back to the casino, and then at the marble ground and fountain, he headed for home.

Ah, but there was a small piece of detail he had neglected, causing himself to stop and think.

"Let's see," he folded his arms. "The captain of that ninja squad knows me as 'Lee'," he spoke, sounding like an apathetic teenager again, This one, the clerk, knows me as 'Alex'. Alex Parlor." Arthir nodded after sounding posh like earlier. "I must not forget these names. Probably should go home and memorize them."

He was going to move, but then a thought entered his mind. The silence around him didn't help in calming the atmosphere. He was thinking of what choice to make, now that a new possibility had entered his head.

"But what would I get out of that?" he asked himself. "I've spoke with the captain not too long ago. I should let him rest."

Then, the three ninjas came to mind now. Shinobis and jutsus... There are an innumerable amount of techniques out there that could probably help in some way. The only things he knew as of right now was...the basic academy skills.

"Perhaps they can help me out," he said, tapping his chin with a finger. "Yes, maybe I can learn a thing or two from them." Glancing up at the sky through, he frowned. "But it's a little late in the evening, so...tomorrow."

Finally, he truly started off for home, leaving the premises of the Golden Horn.

[Exit]
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2,000/2,000 -> Suiton C -> B