No one in the station looked at the Gallic Perilous that just moored with the docking belts outside. With the war ongoing, people of Gallic origins have leaked into the independent worlds past Bretonia.
The docking gates were bustling with people loading and unloading goods for the traders who waited before they were out in space again. With the activity going on, no one noticed a small robot wheeling down the corridor with a box on top of it.
Taking the first visible route out, the metal box on wheels left the loading bays and entered the station proper. Going down one of the halls, the odd machine found the bar. It wasn't the largest of bars, certainly not as large as some on Planet Manhattan, but it was a nice place where people seemed to not want to bother others.
On the right side lined booth seating, the last booth empty near the corner. Weaving past a few freestanding tables, the robot rolled to the booth bench. Once there, a small platform raised the box it was carrying to the booth bench. A zipper undid itself and something walked out. Whatever it was hid on the other side of the box it was just in so nothing would see it. The small robot activated minor anti-gravity hover pads on itself and lifted to the tabletop where it sat on. It was no larger than sixty centimeters in any direction, so it wasn't blocking any views. A small wire snaked out to the bench, and the robot went almost dormant.
Once a waitress figured someone might of taken the spot, she almost questioned the stuff in the way.
"I am here to meet someone. Let me stay where I am so I can do so. Also, please bring a small bowl of milk if you would, merci."
The waitress heard the robotic voice come from the small machine on the table, but did not see a person who might be there. Without questioning she left to get the bowl of milk, an odd request, and placed it down before quickly leaving again.
The figure hidden behind the box on the bench stirred. While he wanted to drink, he was going to wait for whoever it was that was to meet him.
