[ Tamamo is just a bead on a thread, lined up with the rest of the clans. The thread they're laced on is easily identifiable: Business. It controls everything in the districts, even Sutoku, because having influence over the utilities is a business itself. Tamamo deals in pleasure, like another little seedy place she knows of, but there's an openness afforded to this one that the other doesn't have.

Aerith's at the bar, a wicker basket in hand with a little picnic blanket sticking out of it. A bottle neck beer is placed in front of her, and as she reaches up to grab it, a soft voice speaks out over the speakers that are pumping the room with music. When Aerith looks over, she purses her lips in thought, immediately identifying the woman. She's seen her work, and knows her name is Hotaru— or maybe something else entirely, but that's her public name. ]

Really? Why not? [ It's a simple question that she seemingly ignores as she places the bottle into her basket. ]

I'm making a delivery. Unless you mean the extra Tamamo spice in there, I think that's part of the appeal for clients.

[ She flashes the woman a knowing smile, kind and sweet, like they're both in on some kind of joke she just made. ]