I shook the rain from my umbrella and ducked through the mahogany and brass doors of Icarus Descending. The place specialized in seafood and was one of those restaurants where every other item on the menu had "market price" entered beside it. If you needed to ask, you couldn’t afford it. The restaurant catered primarily to elves—there were maybe two or three other humans there, besides myself. Many of the serving staff were Asian elves and were rumored to be part of a Chinese triad. That was a good one. Why wait tables when crime is so much more lucrative? It was more likely that the customers were triad members—they’d be the ones with the nuyen to eat here.