Mr. Manners was cut off by a click as the door opened behind him. He shot me a scowl—didn't appreciate pedantus interruptus, apparently—but turned to whisper something to the white-suit who'd opened the door. After a quiet exchange Ortega stepped aside and gestured for me to go ahead. I did, but not before wishing I had a small-denomination coin handy to tip him (and really slot him off). I walked through the door .. .