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Lefevre chuckled a bit. "Well it's only been a week, but it certainly feels longer. Cut off from everything, Lorraine is so desolate." He took a sip from his mug and tapped his data pad twice, moving to the next report. "The Council haven't gained any ground, but they can hold their position there as long as they want, what with the Champagne Jump Gate still open. Brigand activity is still minimal in the corridor between the Jump Hole and the Metz Zone, though. The pretty little bartender there is just as safe as always too, of course. Just as pretty as well. By the Crown, that's probably the only good thing about my tours out there."

Lefevre took a bite of his croissant, soft and flaky, taking a moment from his datapad to look around the floor, folllowing Gerald's gaze to the sulking Brigadier, then speaking again to the Directeur.

"How's the Old Bear been this past week without my help? I take it you've done something to piss in Perrot's coffee again, hm? He's a tad grumpier than usual, it looks like."

"Relax, Lucas. Gallia won't fall apart if you turn your back for five minutes. Between me and the Capitaines we can keep the place ticking." Another bite of the croissant. He dabbed his napkin at the corner of his mouth, folded it once, and dropped it back on the table. "Dupont wasn't calm. Ever. that old hag was wound up tighter than the springs of that clock, and yes, she ran a tight ship. But you don't have to have fear to have respect."

"Now, let's get this matter with Perrot sorted out, I'd rather him not continue to make a scene." Not wanting to embarass anyone, Lefevre took a scrap of paper out of his satchel and scrawled on it.

He folded the paper once in half and waved over a serving girl, instructing her to deliver the note. He turned back to Gerald. "Now let's see what happens, shall we?"

The serving girl walked over to Perrot's table apprehensively. She held out the folded paper. "F-from the Commissaire, monsieur."

As the waitress shakily extended the invitation to Perrot, he scowled in disgust,

"Spineless. Just spineless."

With a quick movement, the Brigadier snatched the snippet of paper and began making his way over towards the table at which Lefevre And Gerald were sitting. He pulled out a chair as far as he could without seeming overly estranged.

He regarded both of them with a calm, if somewhat uncomfortable stare, and looked down at the table again.

"Oui?"

"Brigadier, you're in a fouler mood than usual." Lefevre said sternly. "Is the purpose behind the scene anything we need to be concerned about?"

Leon was in a rather poor mood, having just lost his favorite Cougar in an attempt to remove several Sirian capital ships from the orbit of Nevers. While he had survived relatively unscathed, the defeat at the hands of a Sirian, despite it being a Battleship, was more than frustrating.

Deciding to get a drink to cool his temper, he had wandered into the Cafe. His sour mood dipped into an even deeper feeling of extreme anger upon seeing Brigadier Perrot at the Directeur's table. Endlessly he had worked, and with no hint of appreciation aside from the minuscule paycheck he received, and here was Simon, no doubt discussing the restoration of his previous rank.

Leon despised Perrot with a passion, and here he was again, taking something the furious officer knew he himself deserved. He approached the bartender, and ordered three glasses of vintage 685 A.G.S. high quality wine, and a glass of coffee prepared to the Directuer's standard specifications. He hastily drank the first wine glass.

Brigadier Chevalier began to collect the mucus from his lower throat, slowly gathering it towards the top of his mouth, and ejected it from his mouth. Its destination was the second glass of wine, and it made several drops of the liquid jump out of the glass and onto the bar counter. He grabbed a spoon, and stirred the wine glass until the mucus was no longer visible.

Putting a false smile on his face, he set the mucus-wine in front of Perrot, the other glass in front of the Commisare, and the coffee in front of the Directeur, merely said "A gift, for you mes amis." and walked out.

Just as he was about to explain his predicament to the directeur and commisaire, his train of thought was broken by the unexpected delivery of wine by one Leon Chevalier.

He looked down at the glass, and then up at the co-worker whom he so hated. Deciding things could certainly not get worse if he were a bit drunk while he told of his troubles, he cautiously accepted the glass.

With the first sip, his eyes went wide, and he began desperately spitting up the foul, foul wine.

Phlegm.

"LEON!"

Without a second thought, his sad thoughts were smashed to the back of his head, to be suddenly replaced by a flood of unbridled anger that no other man could possibly match.

The Brigadier leaped up from the table, landed on both feet, and bolted out of the cafe. Leon had not caught him in a good mood.

Leon's day brightened the instant he heard his name, oh how his heart soared with joy! However, Perrot was behind him, as were the Directeur and Commisare down the hall, if he did not play his cards right, he might come out of this with a less than pleasurable outcome. He wiped the large grin from his face and turned around to face Perrot.

"Hello honored ex-lieutenant." Leon put extra emphasis on the ex to intentionally anger Perrot.