The door opened, and in,stepped a cloaked figure. The guy by the door demanded weapons, but backed up when he spoke a few words. The figure slipped off the cloak and threw it over his shoulder, walking to where the only sober person in the bar was. Setting down the cloak, he took a seat and laced his fingers together, and looked at McFarlen.
"Miss McFarlen."
He wore a prominetly white outfit with a black, almost runic trim, and a silver necklace. Inside his jacket, the butt of a slug-pistol could be seen, with the insignis of a Coalition arms company on the side. He motioned the bartender for a vodka.