Karim practically falls out of his Waran's cockpit from exhaustion, shaking himself awake on the ground he heads for the pub. He casually does some slight of hand with his dagger, flips and tricks that slightly bemuse both himself and the guard as he hands it over with his handgun. The two nod in mutual agreement, and Karim enters the bar, scanning the place. 'Huh. Coalition. How strange,' he thinks to himself, casually leaning over to the bar and tapping his finger for the usual.
"Whiskey, neat....Actually, to hell with it, just gimme a glass and the whole damn bottle." He flashes a smirk at the bartender and trades his card loaded with entirely too much money for the bottle of spirits. The whiskey flows easily from the bottle, and as it pours he looks around the room once more, and notices an elderly gentleman talking to two younger folks he'd never seen before. He noticed the woman drinking gin was also pregnant, a rare sight for him. Karim strolled over to the booth they were at and sat next to the old man.
"Hello friends! I was just minding my own business when I noticed this gent's glass was getting low, and I just thought I'd share some of my bottle!" He downs what's left of his already third glass, then proceeds to fill his and the older man's glass before he could turn down his offer. His jolly mood and smile slowly creep away as his tone becomes more serious, his eyes fixed on the woman. "You know, miss, you shouldn't drink while you're carrying. It's very unhealthy for your child. You wouldn't want them ending up as someone like me, now would you?" He remarks with a slight smile at the end. His tone, however, remains cold, stifled, and all too serious. The deep, brown eyes that otherwise are unremarkable seem oddly intense, the low bar light reflecting slightly off of them. His gaze pierces the air and seems to create a chilled tension, a stare that could only come from a man who has faced death itself. "The clan of bandits that took care of me as a child used to fancy themselves gin. Bunch of pragmatic twits, if you ask me. I've come to learn the smell of that drink, the taste of it," Karim continues rambling, swinging his glass in one hand, eyes still locked on the woman. He only temporarily takes them off to inspect his glass before downing another swig, closing them in relief and keeping them closed as he continued speaking. "...The burn of it on fresh wounds. The sensation of it waking you in the middle of the night as your head is dunked in it. The pain of it sinking into your eyes as they hold them open." His eyes open slowly and briefly, still fixed on his drink, which he fills and drinks as he continues. "Anyways. I did eventually manage to leave them, find my way around a ship and take off. But it cost me." Karim lifts his drink into the light, drawing attention to his lack of a fifth finger, before returning the glass to his mouth. He places the empty glass on the table and remains silent for a moment, as if letting his story sink into the conscious of the people around him, the woman in particular.
"I digress. My good sir," his attention turns to the older man next to him, "please tell me I've finally met someone who appreciates whiskey as much as I do?" Karim's characteristic grin returns, and while sincere, it has a hint of insanity to it, giving a subtle, unsettling feeling to it.