1951, you weave your way through the crowded hall, scanning faces, looking for any sign of the suspected trader. Your partner, Dante, follows close behind, his expression dark and serious. Then suddenly, Dante bumps into your shoulder, jolting you.

You whirl around, a scowl on your face. "Watch where you're going!" You snap, irritation flaring.

Dante grimaces, annoyance flashing across his features. "Watch your mouth, girly." He responds, his voice gruff. "Stop being so irritable, we have one job to do."