Port Twelve - Printable Version

Horace nodded, "Yeah. I wouldn't want to miss your first flights out of Liberty. It will be interesting. Make sure to call me, alright?" And whether he felt tipsy with how quick he drank or if he just liked her enough to offer the next, he said, "I wouldn't even ask for a payment for that. The experience itself would be quite worth it. So... please?" He hoped he didn't sound like he was begging for it, but in truth, he kind of was. It certainly didn't sound like what a professional bounty hunter would ever offer though.

With the pace they were drinking, they had soon taken the last sip from her glass, and only a piece of the banana the bartender put in had remained. Horace was trying to find the right time to say something, feeling squirmy a bit for it, however she was too focused on her datapad for a while for him to get a chance:

"I am sorry I thought you got drunk, Monica. You certainly are a strong enough woman to hold your drink. And, ugh... I really enjoyed the massage, too. Could you forgive me? I'll get you another drink to make up for it... and for myself. Again the same?"