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You know well enough - the best way to stay anonymous in this line of work is to let the information come to you.  Besides, seedy joints like this don't have much in the way of comfort, and you feel the humidity of the underworld getting to you.  With a mixture of reflex and intention, you slide a finger down the zipper of your jumpsuit, exposing your upper torso to what little fresh air there is to get. 

Of course, the added benefit is that, even in this darkness, your admittedly modest cleavage should attract some kind of attention.  Whether it'll be the right kind is unknown, but you know well enough that guys and girls seeking to impress an apparent ingenue are treasure troves of information waiting to be plundered.  Get the right one talking, and you should be well on your way.  No harm done but some shattered egos.

You sit there fanning yourself and sipping at a relatively tame drink, and soon enough, the bartender is mixing you a cocktail with dexterity that only cybernetic implants can provide, compliments of what seems to be a man covered in piercings and leather, eyes obscured by a pair of dark goggles wrapped around a black head and buzzed-blonde hair.  You can't make out his expression, or even the intensity of his stare through the goggles, but he's definitely waiting to see what you'll do.  

[[Ask about the man.]]

[[Accept the drink.]]

[[Refuse the drink.]]