Nelson's

[Unseelie]

Catalina thumbed through station databanks, her mug of...something...forgotten. She hadn't payed for a room yet, nor leased a spot in a common dorm. She'd sleep aboard her ship. Station officials had deemed this improper for snub craft, as it tended to keep cash from their coffers, so she'd do this in space again tonight. She'd come in for something to eat, and a lowlevel consumer's connection to stationnet.

Catalina hoped she wasn't setting off alaurm flags as she skimmed centuries old history files for any mention of the Bucaneers, or Antony Nevile Blys...

She'd not checked recent news for weeks.

---

[jammi]

John Crown wandered into the bar. He'd been doing the rounds throughout the station, trying to scrape some information up on a female Corsair that had been operating in Leeds last night. No luck so far. Walking in there was one woman seated in a corner, who could have been Corsair because of her facial features, but could have been something else entirely. Hard to tell.

He limped up to the bar counter and clicked his fingers at the barkeep who'd been otherwise distracted staring at a blank spot of wall. Business must be slow or something. "Oi, you." He had the barkepp's attention now. "I'm looking for some help tracking certain persons down." He lowered his voice so no-one else in the room could hear him speak. "The Buccaneers are offering a reward for any information that allows us to track down a certain Corsair. All we know about her is that she flies one of those Corsair ships slightly bigger than their patrol 'Legionnaires' or whatever they're called, and slightly smaller than their main battle fighters. Y'know, the big heavy ones. She was also operating in Leeds last night."

The barkeep thought for a moment before responding. "How much you paying?" John fished a 1000 credit chit out of his pocket and waved it at him before slipping it back into his pocket. "In that case," the barkeep said loudly, "she's right behind you over there." So much for subtle. The woman was peering at him suspiciously.

---

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[Unseelie]

A man had come in. He'd gone to the bar. This wasn't at all unusual. She'd only looked up because her eyes were beginning to feel as though they were two sizes to large, with sand rubbing beneath her eyelids. She'd needed something else to stare at, other than stale beer and a flickering display. So she'd looked up, an watched a man saunter into the bar. Watched him speak to the barrkeep, and then watched the barkeep point, the man turn...and look directly at her.

She grabbed her mug, and pretended to be quite busy with it as the man walked over. She realized she was unarmed....

"Hello, I'm John Crown. We've been seeing you around."

"What of it?"

---

[jammi]

"You were in Leeds last night, correct? Held up a certain 'Constable Dibley?" She nodded, still suspicious and slightly hostile looking. "The Captain of the Bloowdwing wants a word with you." John carefully and clearly undid the buckle on his side arm holster. "And by wants a word with you, I mean you don't really have much of a choice. Understand?" She tensed up at the unsubtle threat of violence. John was fairly sure she was unarmed though. He couldn't see any holsters, so if she was armed it would be a small and compact weapon. Not much in the way of competition for his hefty pistol.

Careful to keep the grip of his pistol clear for a quick draw, he tapped up a comm-link to John Morris, the Buccaneer's Bay door security. "John, we're going to have a guest. Don't shoot her when we come through the door, okay? And if I'm not back within ten minutes arm a few Prospects and set them on a hunting trip."

Gesturing with a nod of his head, he ordered her out the door.

---

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[Derkylos]

Located in one of the darker corners of the bar, Joshua barely glanced up at the new arrival, seeming to be half asleep, surrounded by a collection of empty beer glasses. He made no move as the man approached the Corsair woman. However, as soon as he unbuckled his holster, Joshua carefully and slowly reached under the table, pulling out a wicked-looking, oversized pistol and placing it deliberately on the table in front of him, next to his outstretched hand.

He had purchased the item from a dealer on Arranmore, after his all-too-frequent run-ins with various Wilde, Freelancers and other assorted space trash. Catching the barkeep's eyes, he nodded once, slowly, and the man placed his hands under the counter, grasping some concealed firearm. At the door, a pair of burly Junkers straightened up. Neither of them displayed any obvious armament, but they probably had several items concealed about themselves. Looking towards the pair standing in the middle of the room, Joshua attempted to catch the man's eyes.

He'd prefer there not to be gunfire here, McMillan'd go spare if his bar was damaged...but he sure as hell intended that any non-Junker opening fire wasn't going to be leaving intact...

---

[Darkard]

McMillan had been engrossed in his idle chit chat with Dave for what seemed like hours, but if there was one thing that being a director had taught him, it was that you always listen out for weapons being drawn. The tension that has just arisen in the bar was blaintently apparent, and the shufflings and clunkings of pistols was unmistakeable.
It was compleatly acceptable for Junkers to deal with trouble makers in his base, and even encouraged it, McMillan just did'nt want it here. He liked the decor plasma free and would prefer the varnish on his wood to remain polished rather than scortched or a-blaze.
After a quick assessment of the situation he made a move.

"Just a sec' Dave" he said, rising from his seat and making a small gesture to suggest that the other Junkers need to put all thier hand cannons down.
There was a hidden message in the gesture and facial expression that suggested non-compliance would lead to undesireable results that may or may not include geting your face planted on the table your sat at.
McMillan stood facing the two strangers for a second before turning his head back to look at Dave.

"Ya' know what mate. Forget it. A' cant be bothered with it." he said, as he flopped back into his chair. "What were we talking about again?"

---

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[Benjamin]

"I dunno man, I think I kinda lost track somewhere between all the whiskeys. How god damn long have we been talking? And what the hell are they doing over there?"

Dave's composure was failing to tread alcohol in the sea of whiskey it found itself in. Lucid enough to at least be aware of this fact, Dave busies himself with not standing up for the immediate future, and trying to not bring attention to himself.

"So, Miller, right, what's next for us? I mean I'm a damn wanted man in a quarter of civilised space now so what the hell, right? Not that there's any junk there anyway the damn anal-retentive suckers god damn man get me another whiskey what the hell?"

Dave was free, away from sense, knee-deep in a conversation entirely on his own.

---

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[Darkard]

Now that McMillan had had a chance to step away from Dave for a moment he could now fully see how badly the drink had affected his motor skills. While they were talking, the slow degredation of his sentance structure was easy to miss. But now the rolling of his eyes and the lack of composure to his wild arm gestures was apparent.

McMillan gripped the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. Taking a deep breath between his clenched teeth he pulled himself together a bit. Now that Dave was smashed he would have to talk to somone else, and that meant he would need to re-adjust to not having to answer retorical questions.

"I'll leave ya' to it eh Dave?" The question bouced off Dave like rocks off a Graviton Shield.

Standing and stepping up to the bar, McMillan nodded to Nelson as he occupied the space opposite him.

"That guy" McMillan jabbed a thumb in the direction of the Libertonian Junker "drinks only the 'special flavoured' brown water now, ok? He needs to be able to get home at some point."

"Err... yeah, Ok" smiled Nelson. The coloured and flavored waters were his idea.

---

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[AJBeast]

Steps started to be heard , closing in on the bars entrance. A medium stature , pale skinned man entered through its doors. The mood inside the bar shifted slightly. There was something strange with this man. His ice cold blue eyes seemed to pierce into ones soul. He headed straight to the bar , sitting next to the drunken Junker.

"Darned junker drunkards"- he mumbled with a low tone. A tone just high enough for people to know he was talking but too low to make out what he said.- " I want the strongest drink you got.

He started seeing the barkeeper puring a strange liquid from an untaged bottle onto a glass

"Just bring the whole darned bottle."

"Alright. Here you go , sir. Just one question though , how exactly did you find this bar?"- said Nelson hesitantly

The man drank his drink in one gulp and then raised his cold blue eyes to meet with the barkeeps.

"The stench of booze could be noticed from the docking bay. Besides, I have heard a few rumours. There is a certain someone I need to meet."- the man said, filling his glass once again.

"And ... who exactly is said person you are wanting to meet ? And who are you on that matterr?"

The man let out a smirk , thinking to himself "What a fool...".

"My name is Adam Tarnet. I have come for your boss , McMillan. I am in need of something that only he could provide."- and he drank his drink , again in one go.

The name did ring a bell in Nelsons mind. Tarnet was a famous pirate in Liberty. One day he suddenly disapeared. Why was he in Bretonia?

"S-sir, I wouldn't advise drinking that drink that way..."- said the barkeep nervously. It was remarkable that that man was still standing. Most would drop unconscious after one drink. He had already taken two and hadnt budged an inch.

"I am not a lightweight like your friend here"- said Adam, poking Pajo with his finger

"I am not a lightweight ! I am jus' no..."- replyed Pajo , his phrase losing coerency with every word he said. He fell asleep once again.

"Now , where is your boss? I have better things to do than sit on my arse in bars, doing nothin' "

[Darkard]

McMillan had been staring into space for what seemed like days. The bar and its happenings just carryed on without him has he let himself drift off. His mind wandered onto other things, how many transmissions he had missed sat in here, how much money he had, was the moustache realy a good look for him. The sound of his name parted the haze of his mind and pulled him back into the real world.

"...that only he could provide."

'Oh right, I can see where this is going. He's going to want a ship or some sort of immunity' thought McMillan. He waited with his back still turned to the newcomer, waiting to see how Nelson handled it. I did'nt do too well and before Nelson could point him out and ruin his dramatic entrance McMillan turned around.

"I'm right 'ere. An' I appriciate people makin' appointments"

---

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