"Go on." Raleigh urges. "Tell him what you told me. About the white shirt. The kid you went with."

Raleigh is normally fanatic about the privacy of guests. He has even talked about building a separate stairwell for patrons, simply so they will not be seen entering and leaving Ploenchit tower at all, an access passage that would allow them to enter from a block away, under the street. And yet now he wants her to reveal so much.

"The boy?" she asks, stalling for time, unnerved by Raleigh's eagerness to expose a guest, and a white shirt, at that. She glances at the stranger again, wondering who he is, and what sort of hold he has on her papa-san.

"Go on," Raleigh motions impatiently, the opium pipe gripped in his teeth. He leans into the opium lamp to smoke again.

"He was a white shirt," Emiko begins. "He came with a group of other officers…"

A new one. Brought around by his friends. All of them laughing and egging him on. All of them drinking free because Raleigh knows better than to charge, their good will worth more than the liquor. The young man, drunk. Laughing and making jokes about her in the bar. And then stealthily returning later, in privacy, hidden from his colleagues' prying eyes.

The pale man makes a face. "They'll go with you? With your kind?"

"Hai." Emiko nods, showing nothing of what she thinks of his contempt. "White shirts and Grahamites."

Raleigh laughs softly. "Sex and hypocrisy. They go together like coffee and cream."

The stranger glances sharply at Raleigh, and Emiko wonders if the old man can see the disgust in those pale blue eyes or if he is too stoned on opium to care. The pale man leans forward, cutting Raleigh out of the conversation. "And what did this white shirt tell you?"

Is there a flicker of fascination there? Does she intrigue him? Or is it simply her story that interests him?

Despite herself, Emiko feels a stirring of her genetic urge to please, an emotion that she hasn't felt since her abandonment. Something about the man reminds her of Gendo-sama. Even though his blue gaijin eyes are like pools of chemical bath acid and his face is kabuki pale, he has presence. The air of authority is palpable, and strangely comforting.

Are you a Grahamite? she wonders. Would you use me and then mulch me? She wonders if she cares. He is not beautiful. He is not Japanese. He is nothing. And yet his horrifying eyes hold her with the same power that Gendo-sama used to exercise.

"What do you wish to know?" she whispers.

"Your white shirt said something about generipping," the gaijin says. "Do you remember?"

"Hai. Yes. I think perhaps he was very proud. He came with a bag of newly designed fruits. Gifts for all of the girls."

More interest from the gaijin. It warms her. "And what did the fruit look like?" he asks.

"It was red, I think. With… threads. Long threads."

"Green hairs? About so long?" He indicates a centimeter with his fingers. "Thickish?"

She nods. "Yes. That's right. He called them ngaw. And his aunt had made them. She was going to be recognized by the Child Queen's Protector, the Somdet Chaopraya, for her contribution to the Kingdom. He was very proud of his aunt."

"And he went with you," the man prompts.

"Yes. But later. After his friends were gone."

The pale man shakes his head impatiently. He doesn't care about the details of the liaison: the boy's nervous eyes, the way he approached the mama-san and how Emiko was sent up to wait for him to follow a safe time later, so that no one would make the connection. "What else did he say about this aunt?" he asks.

"Just that she rips for the Ministry."

"Nothing else? Not where she rips? Where they have test fields? Nothing of that sort?"

"No."

"That's it?" The gaijin glances at Raleigh, irritated. "This is what you dragged me here for?"

Raleigh rouses himself. "The farang," he prompts. "Tell him about the farang."

Emiko can't help but show her confusion. "Sorry?" She remembers the white shirt boy, bragging about his aunt. How his aunt would be given a prize and a promotion for her work with ngaw… nothing of farang. "I don't understand."

Raleigh puts down his pipe, scowling. "You told me he talked about farang generippers."

"No." She shakes her head. "He said nothing about foreigners. I am sorry."

The scarred gaijin makes a face of irritation. "Let me know when you've got something worth my time, Raleigh." He reaches for his hat, makes to stand.

Raleigh glares at her. "You said there was a farang generipper!"

"No…" Emiko shakes her head. "Wait!" She puts out a hand to the gaijin. "Wait. Khun, please wait. I know what Raleigh-san is talking about." Her fingers brush his arm. The gaijin jerks away from her touch. He steps out of reach with a look of disgust.

"Please," she begs. "I did not understand. The boy said nothing about farang. But he used a name… it could have been farang," She looks to Raleigh for confirmation. "Is this what you mean? The strange name? It could have been foreign, yes? Not Thai. Not Chinese or Hokkien…"

Raleigh interrupts, "Tell him what you told me, Emiko. That's all I want. Tell him everything. Every single detail. Just like you're talking to me after a date."

And so she does. As the gaijin sits again, listening suspiciously, she tells everything. About the boy's nervousness, how he couldn't look at her, and then how he couldn't look away. How he talked because his erection would not come. How he watched her undress. How he talked about his aunt. Trying to make himself seem important to a whore and a New People whore at that, and how strange and silly that had seemed to her, and how she hid her thoughts of him. And then finally the part that makes Raleigh smile in satisfaction and the pale scarred man's eyes widen.

"The boy said the man Gi Bu Sen gives them blueprints, but he betrays them more often than not. But his aunt discovered a trickery. And then they made the successful rip of the ngaw. Gi Bu Sen did hardly anything for them with the ngaw. It was all his aunt's work, in the end." She nods. "That is what he said. This Gi Bu Sen tricks them. But his aunt is too brilliant to be tricked."

The scarred man studies her closely. Cold blue eyes. Pale skin like a corpse. "Gi Bu Sen," the man murmurs. "You're sure that was the name?"

"Gi Bu Sen. I am sure."

The man nods, thoughtful. The lamp that Raleigh uses for his opium crackles in the silence. Far below on the street, a late-night water seller calls out, his voice floating up through the open shutters and mosquito screens. The noise seems to break the gaijin from his reverie. His pale eyes focus on her again. "I would be very interested to know if your friend returned for another visit."

"He was ashamed, afterward." Emiko touches her cheek, where she hides a fading bruise with makeup. "I think he will not-"

Raleigh interrupts. "Sometimes they come back. Even if they feel guilty." He shoots her a dark look. She makes herself nod in confirmation. The boy will not be coming back, but it will make the gaijin happy to think so. And it will make Raleigh happy. Raleigh is her patron. She should agree. Should agree with conviction.

"Sometimes." It's all she can manage. "Sometimes they come back, even if they are ashamed."

The gaijin eyes them both. "Why don't you go get her some ice, Raleigh?"

"It's not time for her next round. And she's got a show coming up."

"I'll cover the loss."

Raleigh clearly wants to stay, but he's smart enough not to protest. He forces a smile. "Of course. Why don't you two talk?" He looks at her significantly as he leaves. Emiko knows Raleigh wants her to seduce this gaijin. To entice him with herky-jerky sex and the promise of transgression. And then to listen to him and report, as all the girls are asked to.