The Zoners were businesslike enough, if you made it clear that business was all you wanted. Which Tom made sure to do - out here the LSF were not very well received, and it was much better to keep things on a very professional level.
Still, one needed to kick back and relax a bit. And out here, that meant either taking long walks down the gunmetal-gray hallways, or hitting up the bar. At least that was the one constant no matter the spacelanes you plied. At the end of the day, if you made it to a station, there'd be some sort of drink, sometimes even agreeable, waiting for you to purchase in one form or another. Sometimes it was nice simple credits. Other times, drinks were paid for in favors, selective hearing, and even blood.
Luckily, the bar on Freeport 11 took their payment in credits. Which was what Tom had folded up in his nondescript gray jacket, thankfully not matching the color of the deck plates. Wasn't wise to be official and uniformed up on rec time, especially out here where the Liberty code was worth maybe a drink if told as a good joke.
The bartender recognized him - he was becoming a regular here now - and starting pouring as soon as Tom stepped into the establishment. There weren't many people around, a couple loners, some pairs, scattered throughout the place. Taking the drink, Tom laid a bill down on the counter, and decided that he wanted to socialize. Nursing a drink alone was useful sometimes, but not this day. Besides, he needed to brush up on gathering intel from the locals.
Pulling up near a stargazer with a patched up jacket, Tom sat down and said "Do I sense a kindred soul, who never tires of seeing these same sights every day?"
The man was quite a bit more drunk than Tom would have expected. Still, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing when it came to socializing. Tom was slightly miffed though, that this man seemed to have him at an advantage. Maybe he was great with faces? Maybe they had interacted somewhere, sometime else? Tom felt that it would have been in a different life, he had spent so much time out here that "the old times" were little more than hazy memories. At least until his infrequent and brief trips back to civilization.
The mention of Julia took a moment to figure out. It was so much easier to act confused when one actually was confused. Slowly though, realization dawned on him.
"Julia? The new pup? I wouldn't know how she's doing, never talked to her. Never even seen her in person. Have you?"
Taking the cue from his opposite, Tom started working on his drink. Even from across the air, he thought he could detect the stench of the other man's drink, something strong no doubt, which would explain his current state. Tom's drink wasn't nearly as powerful, intending only to get a good feeling going. But perhaps that needed to change.
Speaking slowly, Tom answered "Why so far out? Out from where, home? This place is more home for me than anywhere else has been."
