Scutter muttered to himself as he walked into the cafe.
Sigismundo watched the grubby little man walk over, catching a few of the words.
"...bleedin' useless minin' ship... soddin' Battlestar II much better..." Scutter looks up. "Er hi Siggy... thought you was still... nevermind. Fix us a bleedin' Irish coffee will yer mate?"
"Right. Something on your mind?"
Scutter scowls. "Guess yer didn't know then?" Siggy gives a blank look as he prepares the coffee, so Scutter continues. "Tried ter get me shuttle back through that rift thingie but the bleedin' thing ain't there no more!"
Siggy places Scutter's coffee on the bench. "You'll be missing your stripclub then."
"Yer well... never really got off the ground on that project. Couldn't talk any of them hot Bret copwomen inter bein' me star attraction. Wanted ter lock me up instead, bleedin' prudes." He grins. "Got me some good laughs from the faces they pulled when I asked 'em though. I says, 'first yer work the door, then later yer work the pole.' Hahaha!"
Siggy laughs. "Well there's your coffee anyway. If you'll excuse me, I'll serve this customer."
Scutter picks up his coffee and wanders over to his normal corner seat facing the door.