"KEEP YOUR GUN HOLSTERED!" was a sign prominent on every wall in this place. It would almost hit you in the face when you swing open a couple of western style doors, accompanied by a jingle of bells to alert an old innkeep behind the bar.

Stereotypically, the man almost always seemed to be idly polishing glasses and goblets with a piece of cloth, or otherwise whatever bottle there was in an arm's reach at the time. For all you could know, it was out of habit rather than a necessity, as the man looked old enough to be doing this job since before the glass polishing cupboards became the new wild thing all over Sirius.

Though the business was threatened by the ever encroaching Crayterians next door, recently those dislocated jump-holes would help enliven the place a bit. The confused captains and pilots would scratch their heads and run back to the station, and the old innkeep would be happy to inform them... That is, of course, after insisting that they should take a seat and order a drink... Maybe even book a room upstairs.

The clientele around here would not be the most trustworthy, with people of all kind passing through this base. That made the innkeep the most trustworthy person around for the most of the lost travelers, and you could surely trust him to give you the coordinates of the new location of the holes. Most of the time.

As for the inn itself, it was nothing special, bare minimum standards for everything you could imagine, from the decoration to the rooms upstairs. Besides the odd travelers, there would be a few old timers of the base, regulars who seem to visit out of habit much like the old innkeep who seemed to be standing there behind the bar out of habit as well.

'Idle' would be the word to describe this inn perfectly. And for many who liked to keep to themselves, it could also be described as 'ideal'... Nobody around here liked the snoopers. Everybody kept their business to themselves, and so their guns were still holstered.