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She laughed softly, the bartender glanced at the outsider briefly. The freelancer sat on the corner of the bar, where it met the wall, from here she had a good view of the door and the many booths hugging the wall, only thing behind her was the bathroom door. Under the poor illumination most of her features where hidden.

Dayayra was having fun with one of her silly observations. Despite travelling quite a bit around Sirius she never found a place that DID NOT have a bar... And she never a place where she was not an outsider.

One thing she always had to deal with back in Canaria was her affiliations. Her dad was a Zoner and she was born on Canaria, that would label her a Zoner. Only problem is that she did not look at all like one of them, her mom was a settler from Crete and it might be that the harsh conditions made her genes just as resistant or something... She looked more like her mom than anything else.

"Tu sabe una cosa?" Her mom would sometimes jokingly say. "I think I got myself pregnant 'cause I can't see your pa's contribution here."

When she started escorting trades around the omega system they would sometimes hear a joke about her being a Corsair, a pirate. Most of the time she would not even get a job because of her looks. Curly brown hair, brown eyes and brown skin with a tint of... She looked at her bare forearms for a second. Red? Either she would get her 'escort service' offers denied or get a counter offer for another type of 'escort service'. She was short and had wide hips that made her walk a certain way and enough meat on the right places, that was about the only benefit of having that gene pool.

Amongst the Zoners she was the pirate. And now that she moved from the borderworlds to liberty she was the Zoner.

Still, she made a name for herself as a freelancer, danced on both sides of the law, never getting herself to committed, made herself a few enemies but also a few friends. But never really found a place to fit in, not fully at least.

USI was the best thing that had happened to her and it was all thanks to Thomas Cromwell, the next best thing that had happened to her, but the first would not had happened without the second.

A sip of whiskey made her focus on what she was thinking to begin with. She felt the familiar feeling of someone looking at her and looked up, the barman quickly turned away. He had tried mixing her drink with something called cola which tasted horrible and when she asked for the undiluted thing he looked at her like if she was crazy or something.

She was twenty three years old and had twenty five years of experience, she knew how to handle it, on top of that she drunk almost everyday. She felt the urge to sit on that stool and drink until closing time just to show him.

Another sip brought her back to her line of thought.

Security Officer with USI, the first real job she had if she ever officially had one, the first place she felt like she belonged to. Freelancing was now a part time thing that paid quite well but was also quite dangerous. Working for USI was relatively safer but more constant and reliable.

She felt good there, she got along with her colleagues, they where all good guys and treated her like on of their own. Roxx, Clovis, Jack, Thomas... Roxx... Clovis... That is where the list ended. Most everyone else at Trenton treated her like what she was, an outsider. Some made not so subtle hints showing how much they did not trust her. And some... She had to try real hard to not smash a bottle on their heads.

She reckoned it would be the same anywhere, she could not speak whatever they spoke in Gallia, she was not well liked in Brettonia, Rheinlanders where kind enough to try and speak english but those thick accents and big mustaches scared her.

And Crete? Who would wanna go there? Well, maybe one day her freelancing gig would take her there, she was still in good terms with the Corsairs, so maybe she could someday escort someone crazy enough to go to Crete and have a look for herself.

She brought the glass to her mouth and sucked on nothing but air.

(Author note: I am writing this on a tablet. There might be a lot of errors.)

An elderly man, roughly fifty years old had wandered into the bar on Manhattan. He wore a black long coat which covered most of his upper body. Though he wore equally black dress slacks, with matching boots.

Terrance snarled his nose in disgust as he entered the bar finding it a rather low place for even himself to visit, though he had a job to do and one that required him to pay close attention to various people. Why he was on this wretched planet was something that he, himself, didn't understand. His trip to the Tau systems yielded very little results in what he was attempting to find. That being evidence of alien tempering within this new enemy that had made itself known, and was more than willing to destroy civilization at its heart.

So, naturally it was his job to stop such from happening. If people within his organization actually cared about doing their job properly. Rather than trying to topple an entire Kingdom on some false information.

He sighed softly to himself as he stood at the entrance, his aged eyes observing the various people sitting in the rather populated bar. He took a couple more moments before he actually moved his way towards the nearest unoccupied table. Which was thankfully located near the back of the bar.

He took a seat to where he could continue observing people coming and going.

Having settled down at the booth, Terrance reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a PDA. Which he promptly set down on the table and began flicking his finger across the screen. His eyes shifting as he began reading what appeared to be news reports. Occasionally he looked up whenever someone entered, or left.

Though he kept quiet. At least until he looked up and saw a woman who was in the bar prior to his arrival staring back at him. Her words were slightly slurred, which indicated to him that she was drunk. He stared back at her with slightly furrowed brows as she spoke, "I'ts kinda creepy that you're sitting behind me and not drinking anything ya know?"

He never broke eye contact with the drunk as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver flask, which he sat heavily down on the table to indicate that it had liquid inside it. He, of course, knew that the liquid inside the flask was nothing more than plain old water, mined from the far reaches of the Walker Nebula.

"Not everyone comes to a bar to drink." He said in a heavy Bretonian accent. His tone flat and emotionless as his gaze shifted from the woman who had interrupted his research.

"He is probably the worst kind of customer"
James said to the bartender, while finishing his drink. After a short pause, James turned around to have a look at the man, sitting in the back of the bar. The man looked unsympathetic, and the black coat added a mysterious feeling to his appearance.

What if he knows something about me? - He thought. The mere thought made him feel uncomfortable.
I must be paranoid. He mumbled, so no one could hear it.
He ordered another drink to chase this train of thoughts away.

Originally having all of the intention to get his work done, he felt that it wasn't going to be the case when the woman began speaking more directly to him. He sighed lightly to himself before looking back down at the device that was resting on the table. Having turned the device off.

Seeing movement in his peripheral, he looked up to see the woman making her way over towards his booth, carrying a glass in her hand. When she finally approached and offered him the drink, he accepted it. Though rather than taking a sip he sat it on the table, then placed the back of his hand against the glass itself and calmly pushed it off the edge of the table. Sending ice and whatever liquid was in it splashing out on the floor, the glass itself, merely cracking.

"Kid... the fate of Sirius rests in the hands of people who you don't want exactly want to mess with. I happen to be one of those people. Now, do yourself a favor and go back to drinking with your friend over there, and I'll go back to doing what I was doing. Which was staying out of the way." Terrance spoke up, turning his head back towards her, the icy cold gaze of his mist blue eyes meeting hers. "Also, I'd be careful with what you drink here. This isn't exactly the safest bar on Manhattan."

His gaze then shifted towards the bartender who seemed to be fuming over the spilled drink. "Don't worry, I'll pay for it."

James couldn't hear what the man was talking about, but he didn't care. He couldn't judge by the old man's expressions, so he tried to reply to the question that the woman asked before.

"What are we drinking anyway?"
Everclear. As far as I know. Before he could continue, he got a message on his PDA.

The living cargo is loaded. We are ready to go sir.

He put the PDA back into his pocket, without replying to the message. He was sure that this trade run could wait a few hours. The slaves wont escape, as they are tied in the cargo hold.
Where was I? Sorry I didn't catch your name. He couldn't even remember whether he have asked it before.
Anyways, my name is James Green, Captain of the Counterfeit Coin. I am sure we haven't met. At least I hope.
He took a sip from his drink. The alcohol burned his throat, but his expressions didn't changed. He got used to these kind of drinks.


// The post might not fit perfectly into the story, but I got ninja'd

Lux Ryder strolled into the bar, with a smile on his face.
"Ah! Good old 'Hattan!" He said with joy, attracting unwanted attention from every able-bodied thug in the bar.
Wait a second, this doesn't look like my usual bar... he thought.
The bar people looked towards Ryder. It's not often you see someone from the Bounty Hunters Guild coming into a tough joint like this one, whether looking for a drink or trouble itself.
Play it cool Play it cool Play it cool Play it cool Play it cool Play it cool Play it cool.
He slowly approached an empty table, being careful not to get his cloak caught on a table and careful not to trip on one of the table legs.
"Er... B-bartender. A drink please..." He spoke in a loud whisper, trying to not attract anymore attention to himself.
The Bartender approached him with a watered down beer, Ryder couldn't tell whether this was some kind of joke of warning. Regardless, he drank the liquid in one go, dissatisfied that he wasn't drunk yet.
He produced a platinum coin from his pocket, holding it his hands for a few moments before flicking it into the air. On the other side of the bar, a few thuggish looking males began to rise from their seats. Their eyes fixated on the coin.