Tim lifts his head from the cluttered desk, an invoice sticking crookedly to his forehead.
The comm alarm had woken him from a much needed nap.
Swiping away the offending invoice, and wiping his eyes with one hand he slaps the comm button with the other as he blinks himself awake.
"Oy! Arbiter Trenton!" he smiles into the commset blearily. "My good friend, wha' can Oi do fer ye this fine day? Aye an' it tickles me ter see yon flagship in Gordon space, an' sure!"
Flicking open another comm channel to the dockyards, he leans into the desk-mounted unit. "Gordon Control, please make ready th' VIP bays fer th' JunkerTown, full honors." "Aye Chief." came the curt and polite answer.
Looking back up into the commset, Finn manages a smile. "James me good lad, why'nt ye meet me at the Pub, aye? Oi could use a pint an' some comp'ny. I've 'ad th' lads make ready bay ONE fer yez'. Bring 'at beastie on in, me boyo, an' mind th' pipers. They dinnae get ter play fer such audience often, mostly scallywags like me!" Tim smirks playfully.