The Ships Inn ... Wall Street Station, Honshu

[Reverend Del]

Gregory walked into the bar to a somewhat shocked crowd, it had been a long time since last he had been here.

"Whiskey, Sophie please." he said, an air of quiet fatigue about his person.

She gave him a shot and he downed it in one.

"Another" he asked.

He continued to drink until finally he slid off his stool and onto the floor.

"As'h whu I rememmemeberrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr" Finally he passsed out, whilst Sophie called for the bouncers to remove him back to his quarters.

---

Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.

[Fellow Hoodlum]

Jay strolled out of the office and grabbed a large Maltese brandy ...

"Soph, I hear Gregory fell off the wagon finally, The Hackers do have a habit of doing that to people. Wasn't
his day I guess. He'll hurt like hell in the morning, so best coffee on early please.
Did you manage to get him back to his billet ok? The last time he flew pissed, I had to buy out the insurance
company, and a couple of LPI officers. Really don't need a repeat of that little fiasco. Hide his keys.
Oh, and when you see Larry at lunchtime tomorrow, can you get him to pop one of his corporate Christmas
cards to Moriarty, he knows where, and get to him to put in the usual invoice."

He sat at the bar, and swilled the amber liquor round the glass ...

---

Some say he is a proud member of: "The most paranoid group of people in the Community."

[Tanker]

It has been a long time since Jonathon had visited The Ship Inn..So long so, well in his mind anyway, He wondered if his table was still available....

Jonathon enters the bar wondering what he will find and was pleasantly surprised. Sophie waves at him and says."Good to see you Sir, I'll put on some of the good coffee now for you. Your table is ready in the back." She then returns back to work with a smile. As Jonathon walks back to his table and sits down, He can't remember when he was pleasantly surprised about anything. Surprised Yes, Pleasantly, no.

After a few minutes Sophie brings over a cup of coffee. The aroma of it was just simply outstanding. "Thank you, Sophie!" Say Jonathon, " I owe you one." Sophie laughs.. with a grin she says "Owe?, haha, You'll pay just like everyone else!" Grinning with amusement she heads back to the bar.

Jonathon smiles.. "It is good to be home again." he says to himself...

[Dusty Lens]

Distance and perspective salve many ails, insight often presents itself when the issue is put to an arm's length.

Or that was the plan at any rate.

Daniel Conner, or so claimed his card, reconciled the differences between a filled bottle of sipping whiskey and an empty shot glass as he pondered the flow of traffic swirling around the docking points of Newark station.

Business had been good, fantastic even, in the Omegas. A number of contracts had been presented which catapulted opportunists such as the Reavers into a mixture of corporate warfare and territorial contest. The systematic slaughter of every IMG, Kruger or Hessian ship which had crossed through that yellow hell had netted tens of millions within the space of a week.

Then a saber rattle later that contract had evaporated. Something about it felt weird.

So he did what he always did when the situation turned curious. Life on autopilot, look where you end up.

Which was at a lonely table in the Ship Inn with the dossier of Ashley Patrick Benson in his hand. A wholly unremarkable pilot whom had been hired for reasons which, at the time, proved extraordinarily illusive.

Something about her profile makeup had caught his eye. There was something fishy running beneath the current in the Omegas. Something with connections, he felt, very very far from that region of space. Something which had caused him to find himself where he was looking at the life story of another hard luck nutcase trying to make her way by killing the slower pilot.

He sipped filled his shotglass and knocked back the bolt, grimacing.

But Newark was, if anything, the right place to find answers.

Or find something.

Or so he imagined. Maybe he'd simply seen too many movies. But, hell, if his credit had to be checked to get him through the door he figured that a body might be able to find what they need.

He illuminated a call switch, eventually summoning a buxom young lady who looked radiant enough to have the station built around her. He briefly wondered what her earning salary was.

Hi. Ah. I need whoever around here solves problems discreetly and charges about fifty million credits to make things happen.

He tried to grin.

It was worth a shot.

[Reverend Del]

Gregory had been called from his billet, and he wasn't best impressed about it. At least until he'd been told what the situation was. Pulling on a good coat he hurried out of his quarters and into the nearby lift. He only hoped he'd be able to get there before this Daniel Conner decided that the wait was too long and left.

He arrived to find the bar fairly empty, he looked to Sophie and she motioned to the man sitting alone at a table with a dossier in front of him.

"Fifty million credits? Waving a chip like that round here is likely to lose you a hand." Gregory chuckled.

He took a chair opposite Mr. Conner.

"Now what trifling situation would merit the cost you have mentioned?" Greg smiled.

---

Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.

[Dusty Lens]

He tried to smile at the quip but couldn't quite summon the stomach for it; something akin to a movement of the tired lines crossing his face would have to suffice. Also seemed that names and formalities weren't going to be the scene of the day. Just as well really. Wasn't looking for a makeout buddy. 'Sides, fewer chances he had to screw this up the better.

"In truth is I'm more or less shooting in the dark. I've some credits but a lack of familiarity on how to best employ them."

A final lonely shot was bolted while Daniel took a half moment to consider his position, eyeing the passing traffic as the burn settled.

"In short I'm seeking to employ Interspace Commerce to perform a service for me. One which I'm not entirely sure exists." He turned his gaze back to the man sitting across from him. He briefly wondered if he had ever tried to kill him. "I have an individual, a young lady of troubled past, whom I wish to receive an education on how to keep both eyes open, mouth shut and move where she has little business moving. Dramatics of the statement aside I've little doubt that the corporations of Sirius often have cause to practice such traits."

He poured another shot.

"Let alone one which depends on not being one upped out their pocket change. I'm not looking for anything particularly fancy. Just as much miledge as I can squeeze out of this trifling sum."

He placed the card on the table.

"That's my hand, so what'll you deal?"

[Dusty Lens]

The two spoke for a bit, nothing was settled, Daniel discreetly left his tab in the name of the other gentleman.

[max_was_ere@hotmail.com]

Gourgia strolls into Newark Inn places a few sheets of paper on top of one of the lawyers currently passed out on a couch then leaves a small holodisk with the following recording,





It was noted that this was a Tax-Deduct-able Donation to the Rogues.

~Gourgia Out

Gourgia places it on the lawyers fore-head and strolls off for some much needed sleep.

---

I like how he doesn't even attempt to hide a +1.
Unlike me, I'm pro at making it look like I actually have an opinion on the topic.
Except in this post.
I'm feeling rebellious.

[Tanker]

The Inn was dark and desolate..The only sounds that could be heard were the murmur of the fans coming from the ventilation grills. There wasn't much left of the place to remind someone of the times that were had here. The arguments with the lawyers, The good cup of coffee that only Sophie could make, The bragging of our bank balances...and who had lost their keys to the Executive washroom..

All that was left were the shadows of what once was.

Jonathon shakes himself out of his melancholy mood. "There isn't any reason to be like this" he mumbles to himself.

He knows a new place is in construction. A place where all these memories will be renewed with more outlandish ones. A place that will solely be our own. A place that will be called home. This is a dream that is becoming reality. Our stations in Oita are nearing completion. The bar is stocked, our offices are being furnished. But most importantly, Sophie has agreed to move there along with the new establishment.

Jonathon chuckles, "Don't know what I would without Sophie's coffee"

Jonathon takes one last look at the old place, turns around and walks out.

"I sure hope they finish the new place soon" Jonathon thinks...

[Tanker]

It has been a while since Jonathon had a really good cup of coffee..... He stares off into space and reminisces about the times had when the bar was on Newark Station. And also wonders if Sophie ever excepted the position at the new place in Oita....

"Well, This is something that I have to find out for myself." Jonathon thinks. With a goal set, Jonathon heads off to the new station.

The trip to Oita was uneventful, But what was more astounding was the number of ship traffic in Oita. Ships of all shapes and sizes. ..as he comes up to Wall Street Station he has to pause in awe. "It is the most grand station he has ever seen. It is amazing how much motivation a good amount of credits can do."

"Wall Street Station, This is Jonathon Winchester III, prepare the docking bay for my arrival"

"Affirmative Mr. Winchester Sir!, Right away"

voices in the background can be heard saying.."Snap to it men, Don't keep him waiting!"

Jonathon chuckles..