New Providence Bar: The Strait

[Croft]

A mish-mash of Zoner design and Pirate sensibilities, things at the Strait are rarely what they appear. The bar staff are heavily armed robots, the furniture is mostly stolen and the patrons range from well meaning freelancers to cold blooded killers.

All are welcome to soak in the atmosphere or drown their troubles, just be sure all the fights happen outside the station. The staff tend to throw brawlers out the airlock, suit or not.

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Jimmy The Rat | Croft's Feedback | The Rat Pack

[Enkidu]

Gunn staggered into the bar, elbowing the nearest security droid, dripping with sweat, superconductive lubricant, partisanship, and enough spunk to start a barfight with nary more than a spork and some eager aim. "Crudcakes. Sorry, mate, shoot, whatta' bollocks up this is, eh?", she slurred, bequeathing the armoured carapace a grope to the titty. "I'll just sit myself down here, real pretty, like."

"Oai! Wirehead! Set me up with something propper strong, yeah? Real antifreeze, bonce-bustin' stuff. Now where's my wingman? That Grey lad, hmg? Nobody wanna' serve a drink to the soddin' defenders of this here station, eh?!"

[Enkidu]

She swung herself down with the grace and aplomb of a house down a land subsidence. "No-one, then?"