"I may know someone who can take the rogues off your hands, I'll have to speak with them to be sure, as for the Order and the Xenos, I believe that falls under Izzy's area of expertise." Emma sighed.
"And since when to Liberty Navy pilots give up prisoners? What happened to 'we don't negotiate with terrorists'"
There seemed to be a subtle motion, large enough to make the bar rattle slightly. Moments later, clamping of old, worn and very dirty boots echoed, as a well aged, ragged looking man walked in. He smelled absolutely horrible, drenched in sweat. On one portion of his jacket, a stain of blood was splattered along it, which seemed to be feeding ground for flies. His pants weren't torn, but they were worn very badly; the knees were grinded down to the seam, and he had quite a bit of patches. Somehow, in his tracks, he left mud stains; his hair was heavily greased, if his body itself didn't appear greasy itself. Jet black hair, graying on the sides in an oddly handsome fashion, he wore a sheepish grin along his somewhat thin lips. Stretching his hands at the door, the bones audibly cracked among the layered gloves on his hands. The man did not look at Mike, or anyone for very long for that matter, except for Emma's lower back. Once he was done inspecting which had to be inspected with an acquired taste, he sat down and blared out boisterously,
"Just brought back some good, old memories, y'know? Gimme some of that watered-down piss y'wanna call ale 'er somethin', I feel like tellin' a few tales, y'know? 'Bout my old days an' such. . ."
He looks around, and interjects himself quickly adding, giving the bartender a quirky look as he spat into his new drink. "Bunch 'uh youngin's, huh? Les'see if ther' smart and'll listen to my stories 'bout when I was'a workin' fer' all the big names, yeah?"
It was then when he laughed, taking a gulp of his booze; the portly bartender attended someone else. Under his breath, he mummered in a bit of a disheartened voice, "Welp. . .There be a reason they call me Reggie the Monster, 'neways." He looked off back at Emma, squinting, but without saying anything at all.
"You may not," Emma replied. "But your government does. Rule number one of the Liberty Navy: You are government property, you'll do it their way and you'll bloody well like it." She looked over at the dirty man.
"Something you want or are you just going to stare at me from across the room?" She called.
After listening for a while to this weird conversation between the navy girl and some other people gathered at the table, he drinks his glass of rum, fills it again and leans back on his chair. - Oh, i guess i did interrupt something... - he mumbles quietly.
He looks a little drunk - tipsy at least - but seems to listen carefully to this interesting conversation.
"And why do you think I was looking for someone to take those pilots off my hands in a back alley bar... So to speak..."
She returns to unbuttoning and buttoning her empty holster...
"None of this has to be known by anyone other than us, and the ones who'd like them back, noone from the Liberty Navy Command."
[22:29:00 | Edited 22:29:52] Corey (Gheis): Just because I'm an admin doesn't mean I can't appreciate an attractive woman.
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