"One Octopus Card, please." She tilts her right shoulder up, letting the strap slide closer to her neck. She fumbles for the freshly-exchanged, crisp, overpriced Hong Kong dollars.
She curses herself under her breath - cuz she just had to stuff the money as fast as she could into her travel bag, working in the light of the blinding Travelex currency board.
Veronica Mars - walking paranoia.
Sometimes, she surprises herself.
"Regular?" The transportation officer mumbles through the glass barrier, his accent heavy with that unique blend of Britain and Asia.
There are other kinds?
"Yes - for MTR." She wills him to understand.
He nods; and the shiny, thin, powerful card is dropped on the metal tray a second later.
She slips her bills across to the man - his face obscured by the obligatory surgical mask. He returns her clattering change in a blink of an eye.
Welcome to Hong Kong - the only place I feel less than ahead.
She shifts away from the circular counter to clear the way for the next customer.
Impatient, she tugs her all-black travel gear into the wider arrival area. She scans the counters nearby - wi-fi rental, car service, or complimentary tours - and almost groans in frustration.
Apparently, counting on an old friend to pick her up from a foreign airport isn't the most stellar idea she's had.
Especially when said old friend is tied up with a significant other.
She smells of airplane and itches from day-old sweat - and she's this close to rushing to the departure area just to rent a shower from the first airline lounge she sees.
How hard is it to spot a tiny blonde against all the glass and grey?
"Po-mo-tion! Po-mo-tion!" A lady, accent thick, shoves a pile of glossy brochures into her hands. She grips them tight before they fall. The woman walks away without another word.
Idle, she leafs through the first two - one offering free wifi to tourists and another detailing Disneyland's latest attraction.
Cuz I somehow look like I'd like to hear Mickey speaking Chinese.
"Cantonese," she corrects herself out loud. The locals can be picky, after all.
The crowds of teary reunions and squealing families that necessarily follow any transpacific flight have already whittled down to a jagged few.
But where's her pickup?
Should've insisted I'd take the bus.
How hard could it be - really?
Her hands fly over her badge - displayed proudly in a bulky leather ID case - while her eyes scan the other side of the ginormous arrival hall. Can't have anyone else misidentifying Interpol as anything less.
Café de Coral, Tsui Wah, and the familiar McDonald's tease her from a distance. Her stomach, unsatisfied with airline fare, grumbles correspondingly.
Maybe I got time for a bite?
Undecided, she leans slightly forward. The brochure insert that tumbles to the floor catches her by surprise. She glances down. The dark shades and dramatic photography strike a stark contrast against its colorful companions.
She picks it up.
"The next legendary woman rises - starring Sire Ma - 'Lotus,'" she reads, curious but unimpressed. Who knew Asian tag lines could be this cheesy?
But by the looks of this impressive spread, these people take their movies seriously.
"Miss Mars?"
She turns around at the crisp male voice. He sounds confident - firm. She catalogues his clean, western outfit - a complete American office attire sans tie. His ID nestles resolutely between the lapels of his suitjacket. She meets his thin-but-expressive brown eyes.
She smiles politely. "Sir?"
"Agent Leslie Leung." He extends a hand that she readily shakes. She notes how the thin lines on the edges of his eyes belie the age he has to be in order to be a senior agent.
The spikey black hair sure doesn't help.
It's funny what's considered professional in some circles.
She smiles as she releases his hand. "Veronica Mars. I assume Mac couldn't make it and had you pick me up?"
"Ah - right." He smiles mischeivously, a hand in his pocket. "I believe the correct order would be that I am the agent sent to welcome you and Mackie here - "
He steps aside, revealing a compact brunette behind him, and adds, "is the one who tagged along."
Mac!
"Mac!"
"Veronica!"
For a moment, she lets the girlishness take over. She could almost scoff at the image - two grown women relishing squeals and squeezes.
But, man, has she missed her.
"You have to tell me - "
"I'm taking you to - "
"Where are we - "
"You have got to meet - "
The series of unfinished sentences leaves the two friends giggling and without conclusion.
"Hey, girls." Leslie walks over, winning smile in place. "How about we take this to the car?"
The long, powerful cords supporting the Tsing Mah Bridge - at once masculine and feminine - flit through like a reel of old movie pictures. Behind them, cargo ships haul in their latest catch - intermodals worth of Prada, Chanel, and Louis Vuitton.
"Anything you're anxious to see in Hong Kong?" Mac's voice is smiling as widely as her lips.
Veronica turns to face her. "Hm - the tiled wall of a sturdy shower?"
Chuckles emanate from the front and back row. Another glance outside forces her to recollect for the nth time that Leslie is definitely not driving on the wrong side of the road.
"Seriously - not everyone has a car here, you know? Gotta make the most of it - right?" Mac punches Leslie playfully on the shoulder. He offers her a sincere, split-second smile.
"You've always been good at choosing beneficial boyfriends, you know," Veronica says, feeling all too lithe for someone on assignment, "Pet lovers, test answers - and the like?"
She smiles at Mac, expecting a chuckle.
All she gets a deep blush on her and a loud clearing of the throat from him.
Wait, they're not -
"Oh, I'm sorry," she offers immediately, small pieces of information gathering together like a fluid mosaic. "It's been a while since we talked, and I thought you said his name was - "
"Luke," Mac adds - hastily, it seems, "Luke Leung."
"Leung?" The word tumbles out involuntarily.
"Uhm - Leslie's brother."
The two other people in the car exchange a knowing look in front of her - a mixture of understanding and regard.
Is she sure this one's not her guy?
"Where are we headed?" She opts to ask instead.
Mac smiles, easing back to her normal self. "Leslie says that as a bigshot Interpol agent, you're entitled to the fanciest hotels in Tsim Sha Tsui."
She turns to Veronica - and winks. "But you wouldn't want that, would you?"
"You know, I've reconciled with quite a few 09ers over the years," Veronica replies, voice teasing. "Luxury ain't all that bad. I mean - "
"You're staying with me!" Mac erupts excitedly. "And don't you dare call my flat anything less than luxurious."
"I shudder in fear."
"We all do," Leslie chimes from the driver's seat, earning another slap on the shoulder from Mac.
The playful banter lifts her spirits. Veronica smiles. "So - uhm, any updates on the case since I got stuck in that metal tube bird?"
"That metal tube bird is called Business Class, Veronica."
"Yes, Mac - I shall always remember to refer to your luxury standards before passing judgment."
"Deal."
The two girls grin at each other.
This is nice.
Somewhere along the way, the ocean views molt into four levels of concrete highways. Blocks of buildings - dozens of floors tall - sprout left and right.
"So?" The blonde presses.
"Not taking a break, Agent Mars?" Leslie talks over the back of his seat. "You'll fit right in around here."
"Please," she looks at Mac. The brunette smiles - permission granted. "Call me Veronica."
Twenty minutes later, they emerge from dark tunnel shades into a glorious, bustling city center. Cackling trams, honking buses, swarms of pedestrians, and towering skyscrapers line up on their left - while the ocean glistens to their right. Advertisements of various sizes, from signboards of the latest Maxim mooncake promotion to giant prints of Sire Ma's face spanning the expanse of double-deck buses, form a visual cacophany.
Mac patiently narrates as they view the gloating triangles of the Bank of China Tower or the triumphant waves of the Exhibition Centre. The latter, according to Mac, signals home.
And if the rest of this trip's going to be as breathtaking as her first hour - she'll gladly slueth here for another ten years.
The elevator shoots up faster than she thought sound probably travelled. She steps, out, slightly out of sorts, into the pristine, marble-floored hallway.
"Thirty-ninth floor? Really?" Vanity prevents her from extending a steadying hand on the nearest wall.
Chuckles escape both her companions, again.
"It's quite moderate for Hong Kong, actually." Mac leads the way to the left-most apartment door. "Didn't notice that you couldn't see the top of the building from the ground?"
"Cuz I totally could from the covered entrance area where your boy - your friend here dropped us off in luxury." Sarcasm - the ever-companion of embarrassment.
Leslie, chivalrously handling the luggage, laughs behind her. "Don't get used to it, Veronica. Mac here - her boss's favorite - has one of the highest-paid jobs on the island."
Veronica notices the blush on Mac's face.
"I'm not his favorite!" She protests politely, pushing the door open after the key-card beep.
"You are!" Leslie smiles back, pulling the luggage in after them.
Veronica feels strangely trapped in the middle of a lovers' quarrel.
"I'm not!" Mac disagrees again.
"You are and you know it," Leslie responds, chuckling, as he rounds them up indoors.
Choosing to ignore the brewing polite-fight, Veronica focuses on her temporary home for the rest of her stay. She smiles, deeply surrpised.
Well, look who's living the high life?
Laminated wood runs the length and breadth of the entire apartment. The dining area to their right sports a modern glass table and glossy black chairs. A handful of steps forward, a lush beige couch leans agains the accent wall, basking in the light from the large bay window.
Between the dining and living area, she notices the entrance to a narrow hallway.
"So - I take the couch?" Veronica offers playfully when she sees how satisfied Mac seems at her friend's obvious approval.
"I'm not that horrible of a hostess, Veronica." Mac links arms with her guest. "You - Agent Mars - are sharing the room with me."
Mac's blitheful smile meets her dubious frown.
"What?" asks the software engineer.
"If I'm staying in your room - uhm, what about - Luke?"
Mac drops her hand right away. She turns to nowhere in particular and shrugs. "He doesn't live with me."
"Right - uhm, sorry for assuming."
A palpable awkwardness settles over the room. The open layout suddenly feels not so open, after all.
"So," Leslie picks it up - he seems to always do, "how about we get Veronica settled?"
The girls agree right away, and they maneuver Veronica's things down the hallway. Veronica notes the existence of yet another bedroom.
So why shouldn't I stay -
"Mac!" A gruff male voice exclaims. They all focus on the tall, thin, frowning man emerging from the master suite. His dress shirt's crumpled around the shoulders, implying an hour of reclining. His hair - though cut neatly - appears oily and thick.
"Luke," Mac says then, obviously surprised.
But why doesn't she look happy?
Veronica watches as Mac gives her boyfriend a half-hearted hug - the overcrowded hallway heightening its awkwardness.
"You brought a friend?" Luke asks curtly. His arm anchors Mac firmly by his side.
"Uhm, yes," Mac mumbles. "Luke, this is Veronica. She's in Hong Kong for a case. She'll be staying with me as long as she's here."
Mac's voice grows stronger with every sentence. Her last one sounds almost resolute.
"Ah," Luke says simply.
This guy is unreadable.
"Could I help Veronica get settled?" Mac asks, unusually submissive.
Girl, this is YOUR house.
"Yeah," Luke huffs shortly. "Sure."
Without another word, he weaves himself out the small hallway, giving his brother a dark glare on the way.
Veronica feels two other sighs of relief along her own.
She looks at Mac. "I take it the brothers don't get along?"
Mac shrugs.
"This is all we've got on him?" Veronica peers over the documents spread over the dining table. Each picture and file owns its own spot amidst the mosaic of organized chaos. Her slipper-clad feet swing back and forth under the table.
"We've got leads." Leslie cocks his head over his coffee. "But the only substantial evidence we have is against his sidekicks, not him."
"He's got sidekicks in Hong Kong?"
"What's a villain without his sidekicks?" Leslie grins grimly. He picks up two mug shots of uncannily similar men. "The twins have been hired muscle since their teens. They've served time, but there's never been sufficient evidence to stick them in there for long."
"And now they've gone international." Veronica takes the photos from him.
"Yup - very."
"Very?" She looks at him - his intelligent eyes and slim frame - over the pictures.
"They were implicated in a case with a Japanese dealer before this."
"Ah."
"Yeah." Leslie shrugs. "But still - nothing sticks."
"And Ramón?"
"Hottest new star in the Hong Kong mafia scene." Leslie picks up an activity log. "The local folks love him. He's been spotted having dimsum with the best and brightest among them at least once a day. He's got plenty of suitors, that's for sure."
"Local druglords?"
"Druglords, assassins, whatnots." Leslie sighs. "Everyone wants the guy on their side."
"To be fair, assassination ring leaders are pretty good to have on your side." She smiles.
Leslie offers a mirthless chuckle. "But we still got no blood on him."
"Not even for an interrogation?"
"Nope." He shakes his head. "At this rate, we'd have better chances of meeting him if we pretended to turn bad and call him 'Ray ko.'"
"Ko?"
"Cantonese for big brother."
She raises her brows.
"Yup, he's that already."
Veronica frowns at the spread before her. "Ramón Santiago was never that big of deal back home. Didn't expect the rock stardom here."
"None of us did." Leslie leans back against the glossy blackness. His right arm slings over the back of the chair beside him. "The guy's a genius at marketing himself. Now he's got free bodyguards left and right."
"We have nothing then?"
"He's been known to carry around a gun."
"Illegally."
"Yup."
"Then why don't we - "
"His schedule's been unpredictable, and he's been flanked left and right - there's no getting him alone."
"At all?"
The ends of Leslie's lips curl up into an unexpected smile. "Until tonight."
"Still got aces up those sleeves, huh?"
"Of course." He grins - at Mac.
Veronica watches her friend return the grin with a sweet smile of her own.
What's going on?
"You guys are close, huh?"
"What?" Leslie's turns back, eyes wide; then he frowns.
Veronica cocks her head towards where Mac is snuggled on her sofa, watching the noontime news with surprising interest.
Leslie's frown deepens, while his ears grow pink.
"Well?" Veronica prods.
"We - get along," he offers lamely. He sighs. Then, with sudden resolve, he looks up. "She's my a-sou, my older brother's girl. Of course we're close."
"Right."
"Yes." His voice is resolutely un-negotiating.
"Cool."
The partners, so new and yet so deep into their acquaintance, fall silent for a moment. Sometimes, instantly seeing through people like a piercing arrow doesn't really help.
"So, about tonight," she offers amends, "where's he gonna be?"
Leslie smiles, normality restored. "Apparently, the guy's a huge fan of Sire Ma, and he's paid big bucks to be at the movie premiere tonight."
"Movie." Her mind flits through the advertisements she's been drowning in all day - Sire Ma, legendary woman, bestselling author. "Lotus?"
"Very observant," Leslie remarks wryly.
"Thanks." She rolls her eyes. "It isn't easy for someone who doesn't read pictographs around here, you know?"
Leslie grins. "Well, good thing the crowd will speak English tonight."
"Gotta glam up for the job, huh? I should've brought my heels."
Leslie laughs - outright. "It's not an American spy movie around here, Veronica. Our roles aren't quite that glamorous."
"Works for me." She crosses her arms, embarrassed.
He smiles. "Come on, you'll be fine. With the American press around tonight, you'll fit right in. Besides, all eyes will be on Logan Echolls."
A/N: With every new story I create, I bind myself to a new commitment to finish it. Oh what have I done? I hope you liked this! It's a big LoVe letter to one of my most favorite cities in the world.
