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Chez L'artificier - Printable Version

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Chez L'artificier - Shagohad - 06-17-2011

[Image: pub-1.jpg]

On Mazagran Depot, there is a rather homely establishment built from the materials and minimalist construction methods of the Maquis. The center of the room is a constant row of tables, their frames made of steel and their surfaces of polished wood. Seats of a similar fashion slide out from underneath, attached by hinges so the rather small area would not be crowded.

The stench of cigarettes and flammable materials filled the air. To those who frequented the eatery, the smell was a sort of a perfume. Something to calm the senses after a hectic ordeal. Bowls of bread sat on the tables, baked at the early hours and replenished upon depletion. To the men and women who sat around the tables, lit cigarettes in their mouths and beers in hand, the various bartenders and barmaids refreshed their drinks.

One particular table, set aside from the rest and placed in a rather secluded area, stood out from the utilitarian design of the bar. It was as though the entire section had been ripped from a luxury liner and placed in this one spot. Upon one of the mismatched seats sat a man of a peculiar nature, his boots set up on the table in relaxation. Greased black hair, green eyes, five o'clock shadow, a chiseled face, and a rather bored expression defined his features. He wore a leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt tucked into military fatigues. In one hand he held a cigarette, in the other he held a bottle of wine.

"Warden," A man stepped up to the table, nodding politely.

"What can I do for you, Gerard?" The lounging Warden asked, his voice deep with a slight hoarseness to it.

"A few of the men were hoping you'd review the reports for today's operations," Gerard's voice was hushed. Strictly business. In his original line of work, being unnoticed and modest were key.

"It's my day off, mon amis. Been a while since I last sat down and had a drink in peace," The wine bottle was pressed up to his lips, the liquid sloshing as it poured into his mouth at an alarming pace.

"Then praise will be distributed later," Gerard said this matter-of-factly, as though the point of business was not evidently clear.

"Indeed."

Gerard sighed, giving another nod before walking off. The Warden only watched in silence as he did so, pressing the bottle back to his lips.