The sun has fully set by the time your purloined van pulls up outside the Marrakesh Kozybar. It's easy to find as the exterior is well lit with traditional lanterns and a number of candelit tables dot the street outside. It appears to be a home converted into a bar on an otherwise residential street of traditional houses just outside the medina.

A swift google on the way over notes that the Kozybar is a well reviewed bar/restaurant which is noted for it's cocktails. This is especially notable as it makes it one of few places in the city where alcohol is easily (well, legally) obtainable. From what else you can glean on the ten minutes you have to search it is otherwise unremarkable.

From the outside it looks exactly as you expected; a tastefully decorated nightspot catering to a clientele of well-to-do tourists and the more wealthy strata of Moroccan society. It's still quite early in the evening so it's largely empty save for a couple of the exterior tables which are occupied by small groups of tourists drinking outlandishly large and over-garnished fruity drinks and consuming food which gives off mouth watering aromas. Inside there appears to be only one occupied table, a booth at the back holds two shadowy figures.

A number of wait staff float around both inside and outside and two staff stand chatting behind an interior bar, no doubt ready to make drinks at a moment's notice but currently just killing time until the rush hour. While some staff cast glances your way it is far too classy a place to try the hard sell which most other eating establishments you have seen in this city go for.

Miles spotted his allies as Wayne approached. Waving them inside he gives them a brief but detailed accounting of what had occurred since they went their separate ways.  A lot and not much for people in their line of work.

As Wayne approached Kozybar, all Miles could really say is "It does look pretty cozy."

Felix gave the very briefest of information rundowns on the trip to the Kozybar.  Which wasn't hard.  It doesn't take very long to say Someone in a floral shirt hired some young punks to trash the target's room.  We interrupted.  Found indications of the target and a note detailing Kozybar.  See?  No time at all.

Felix existed the van as well when they arrived.  To Miles' comment, Felix shrugged lightly and deadpanned, "I had not expected the name to be so on the nose."  He tapped his nose lightly for emphasis.  Keeping his voice low he added, "Who takes the back?"

Wayne shrugged, ”I’ll go around back.”

The back of the Kozybar is reached down a small side alley. It is gated but, upon Wayne's approach, the sizeable padlock appears to be just for show and does not actually seal anything shut.

The rear of the lot is little bigger than the alley which leads to it and seems to be only used for storing rubbish bins. There are several doorways leading into properties but it's immediately obvious which one leads into the bar as the door stands propped open by a brick, flooding the area with a dim light, and a young man in chef's whites leans against it smoking.

Felix heads for the host to negotiate for a table inside for the appropriate number of the team as might be heading into the bar proper with him.  As chance permitted, without seeming obvious about it, he is checking over the occupants of the place for the difficult to find Olivia Liu...

Miles stays close to Felix.  He keeps an eye out for any shady characters also for their target.  He's surprise after surprise for the day and doesn't need anymore.  Especially since they don't know all of the characters at play or even what the game actually is.
I'll spend a point of notice to see anything interesting for us.
He still feels naked with no gun, but it is what it is.

Wayne moved slowly toward the cook so that he could be seen. When close enough he spoke in Arabic, "Friend, could I have a smoke? My wife she won't let me have any and I am feeling pinched." He smiled at his own admission of being hen pecked by a non-existent wife.