Gypsie walked into the bar with his mechanical typing machine tightly held against his chest, still wary of his surroundings. He might have been named Administrator of the station, but he still didn't know the locals too well as to feel entirely comfortable. Also, he was obviously under the effects of Synth Weed.
Well this looks nice. He went on and sat at a table under a dim red light, then he signaled one of the waiters. Liberty Ale please, the best you can find back there if you don't mind. The waiter soon realized who he was and after a rapid nod with his head he went back and brought a full bottle. I am expecting Miss Maria Shelby, I don't really know if she'll know who I am, so please point her in my direction when she arrives. He then lit a cigarette and started typing in a foreign language.