Dimi pulls out a joint of local Banger weed, lights it, and speaks through the smoke.
"Yeah, the Green Front are like ten pounds of muppets stuffed into a five pound bag, my good man. They no longer have any affiliation with us, but, they are the retarded media whores of our family, so, we do feel an obligation to clean up their old messes before we can complete a clean break from them...So, What did the Green Froth stiff you for anyway?
The bald Gaian leans down over the bar and passes the joint with a crooked eyebrow and neutral tone, "Thirty-four million? Ouch. That's a fair chunk of gristle they spit out from under you guys, huh?"
No worries about the drinks, our distilleries are under your feet and flow like water. You drink free today.
"Beyond that, I'm authorized to accept the debt of thirty-four million, payable at word and at your convenience, plus another million for the grief the muppets caused you and yours. That work to lighten the weight of the air sitting on your shoulders a bit?"
He allowed for a winsome (in his mind) grin crack across his face.
Well hell! That'll turn the trick nicely I imagine. I'll forward you lot the routing bit for the account and see how much of that change I can spend on my way out the door. Though chances are I'll pass on back to see about that generous drinking offer you extended.
As she walks through one dark corridor of Islay, Alex gets a sudden, yet strange, feeling of security. Despite the dangerous-looking individuals that cross her in the halls and long corridors, she feels that no harm can be placed upon her, or her sister, while staying at Islay. It's like she's at home. Maybe she is.
The green neon signals the pub and her mind fills with old memories. It's been a long time since she set foot in that particular place.
- I wonder if anyone still remembers... - She said to herself - Doesn't matter anyway... I just need a drink - The reasons that first brought her to Islay were viewed by some as a sign of indifference towards the Gaian cause, yet she was now a true Gaian and no one could question that.
As she enters the pub, she spots very few familiar faces, and a lot of strange ones. She sighs and looks at the bartender. He's cleaning a cup of glass with his old rag as she approaches, and looks at her with a grumpy face.
- Hmn. What can I do fer you, lady?
- Gimme a vodka with rum and whiskey. A lot of ice as well. - She takes a glance across the place for a friendly face but fails to find one, at which point she turns to the bartender.
- 'you seen Druce?
The bartender shrugs and finishes mixing her drink. She looks at him with contempt and heads for her favorite table in the whole place - a discreet and quiet spot in the corner of the room - realizing she wont get any sympathy from these people.
Marine walks in to the bar after having stayed onboard the base for a few days sleeping in her Collector. Her hair backs down to her mid-section and looks worn and unwashed. Her face is also dirty, covered with oil, powder's and petrol. Even her hands are covered.
Marine walks up to the barmen beginning to speak in a soft benign tone, "Bonjour good sir. Can you give me a good hard, fine drink please." She looks around the bar and hopes to see someone that may notice her, dispite how unwashed she looks.
She then returns to the bartender, "Are you Mathew may i ask?" she question's, judging the bartenders eyes.
After a long and exhausting trip from Gran Canaria to Islay, Michael arrives in Green Hell and walks towards bar. He sees lots of old faces, but also some new ones. He sits on the right side of bar, just near window, calls bartender and stares into cloud surrounding Islay.
"Hey Matthew, give me the usual stuff..."
Bartender nods, and brings him empty glass and a bottle of Coalition vodka. He purs some in glass and starts looking around bar. He notices a young woman talking with bartender. She had a Gallian accent, and she was all dirty. Michael stand up and approach her.
"You must be miss Franck. My name is Michael Jones, I've talked with you recently. Anyways... Enjoying Islay? I know it's not like luxury you used to have within Royalists, but it's still something."
MArine gracefully turns around to meet Michael, body head on. "What would you suggest as a good drink good sir? Didn't like the last one the bartender gave to me."
She wipes some oil from her face with her left hand before giving a cheerful glare. "I am rarely around luxury. Only known that around my families home, being my step family of course. How I miss my sweet heart. Ahh, yes I am Marine and it is good to meet yourself."
Her eyes look Michael over, every spot of him is checked though she does it in a careful, but casual way as not to unnerve or give the wrong impression.
Michael turns towards bartender and tells him to bring some glasses. After bartender comes back with two glasses, Michael brings that bottle of Coalition vodka from his table and offers it to Marine.
"Vodka, honey? Fresh shipment from Omega 52. Doesn't taste so good, but it warms you up good."
Michael sips his Vodka and looks at Marine.
"Did you rented a room already? I can offer you my room to clean yourself up, and change clothes. Ofcourse, if you don't like being all dirty..."
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