Emma again surveyed the bar. Lots of people crowded around the girl with the red dress and it looked like Izzy was within earshot if something really important started happening.
Her eyes fell upon the man with the matted black hair. Something seemed... off about him. She recognized the vacant stare but it seemed like there was more beyond that. Before she could reconsider her actions she stood up from the bar and sat down across from him.
"You feeling alright? Because you don't look so good..." She commented.
Syd glanced at the woman sitting opposite distracted from the events occuring in the bar. He had not really been paying atention to what she had been saying, but he caught the concern on in her voice. Focusing as well as he could on her face she did look genuinly worried. Thinking about it Syd realised he must have looked a pretty awfull sight. This was not good, even though she seemed like a kind stranger , it meant more questions and he was looking to avoid those.
The silence between them was defening. 'Say somthing before she gets suspcious.' an unplesant voice said in the back of his head. 'Er.... er..... I am fine.' He stammered putting on his best smile, whcih made him look like he was suffering from severe stomach cramps. His accent was a little odd but there was a slight Bretonian twang to it.
'It is kind of you to ask, I've been through a lot in the last 48 hours. But I am fine.....' He left hand ran serruptitiously over his right arm.
"I hate it when you do that." She rested her chin on her arms before continuing. "I mean, everyone out here does it and its bloody annoying. You all say you're 'fine' when you clearly aren't." She sighed again.
"I'm Emma, and you are...?" She left a gap for the man to fill in his name.
A small genuine smile played across his face, and for a split second his eyes looked really alive, but only for a moment. He stopped rocking, and said 'Syd......Call me Syd.'
'I am not saying I am fine for any stupid macho reason I assure you.' Syd sighed a tired sigh, how much could he tell Emma. In the last 48 hours he had had to fight an almost irrisitable urge to tell some one, to confess. But he knew to do so would be a stupid mistake. Who was this person sat opposite him after all. However, saying nothing would be just as bad. He winced a little as his left hand travled in small circles on his right arm.
His eyes resumed thier distant stare. In a slightly robotic voice he said, 'Let's just say, I've burned my bridges and there is no place left for me at home.'
The pilot clicked his jaw and sat up. All of these ludicrously decked-out bastards were making him uneasy, to say nothing of the bartender who had slowly sunken away to wipe some glasses in the corner.
Well, might as well be on the side that doesn't suck.
He got to his feet and slowly walked over to the bartender, making sure to keep his distance from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum with their suits of armor and guns galore. For his part, his lone sidearm, along with a handful of other hidden toys, was hardly a match. But maybe...
"Hey," he said in the tender's direction. With a flinch, the bartender quickly looked over his shoulder, then turned sour.
"Yeah, what is it?"
The pilot looked to both sides and frowned. "Wouldn't happen to have any... y'know... Insurance policy would you?"
The tender's features softened at first, then went sour again. "Needler rifle under the counter, but..."
"Figures," the pilot interrupted, "but no worries." He patted the gun at his thigh and shrugged, saying, "Anything happens, I'll give you a hand. Don't wanna see this nice place trashed, right?"
"Right," the bartender said, scowling, "Don't want to see anything trashed..."
"Alrighty," the pilot replied, smiling, "Now that we have an understandin', get me a Sidewinder Fang or somethin'."
After all the fighting in the Taus and Kusari, Leon walks back into his favorite bar only to get some cold beer. As he enters, he opens his eyes in shock of a full and crowded place. He walks to the bartender, holding a tissue dotted with blood over his forehead.
"A beer. And Ice. Not in the beer 'Mick'-" He said as the bartender started to pour ice into his drink "-Separately, into a plastic bag if possible..."
He sighed as he got what he wanted and started to walk back to his usual corner spot, when the man in the green flight suit caught his eye. He walked up straight up to him and -
"Mind if I sit down here?"
He held the ice over his forehead with one hand and held his beer with the other.
"Wouldn't be so sure about that." Emma replied closing her eyes as though recalling a set of distant memories.
"I burned plenty of bridges with the only person who ever cared about me. I shot him, betrayed him, tried to kill him..." She falls silent for a moment and fiddles with the wire of her headphones. "And after all that he was still looking out for me. He refused to hate me for whatever reason." She opened her eyes locking the saphire orbs on Syd.
"But then again he's one in a million." She remained silent and slowly sat up. "I won't ask questions if you don't want me to Syd. Lot's of people out here don't want to be asked questions and I'm just a freelancer so I've got no business asking questions I wouldn't answer myself." She sighed and motioned for another beer.
Leon downed his ale and called 'Mick' to bring him a one more, clearly a sort of a revenge for putting the ice into his first one. 'Mick' muttered something and brought the ale while Leon was starring at him with a 'don't-look-at-me-like-that-you-fat-bastard' look. He finally sat down...
"Well, don't be so surprised, we're all friends here...I hope" - He said to the man in green.
He lit his cigarette and took a deep smoke slowly and then exhaled just as slow...
"Say, you have a look of a Freelacer. Or am I wrong...?
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![[Image: 4941020YiWdl.png]](http://siglaunch.com/sigs/any/4/1/0/2/0/4941020YiWdl.png)
