Rum or business?

[Exterminator]

The time had come for elder Cesar Gutierrez to personally meet Steve Malcolm, an old friend and Imperios business partner and owner of Corporate Shipping Airways, a lawful shipping company on paper, but with lots of questionable business practices, not that it mattered to Cesar. They were always highly efficient and got the job done for a right price. Cesar realised how late he was and could only anticipate what kind of Steve's jokes might be waiting for him after such a long time, but his inner thoughts were in joy that he gets to personally meet his friend again. He entered the docking bay, boarded his personal Titan and launched to space, undocking from Puerto del Sol and flying straight to planet Crete.

Many episodes later, Cesar finally reached the bar where he was supposed to meet Steve. The bartender nervously awaited the elder, holding a LOOONG bill to be paid. So long that it nearly reached the floor. Cesar couldn't help but be impressed by what seemed like a potential record, but he wasn’t amused when he saw the total at the bottom of the paper.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, still trying to figure out if this was a dream or reality. On the bill, he noticed a handwritten note: "Gracias from Juanita, Aurora, and Paulina" followed by a pink skull symbol.

Cesar approached Steve Malcolm, with the bill in his hand. "What in the name of rum happened here, amigo? This senora Juanita and her amigas... they really took
a full advantage of the careless fool you are. Good for them! Las problemas, though, senor Malcolm. This bill appears to be in the name of another fool... ME! Caramba, it's quadrupled by the time I got here, and I already lost a large bet in the arena the other day..." His face expression has shown both frustration and some strange type of amazement at the piece of paper he was holding. He realised his position and sighed. "I’ve learned my lesson, no more drinks on me! The next round will be paid for by some Bretonians or Rheinlanders, one way or another!"

Cesar glanced at the bill one more time, mumbling something in Hispanic. Then he turned to Steve, who appeared visibly overwhelmed by all the drinks he had consumed. The Corsair elder has shown a slightly noticable smile seeing how Steve has not changed and decided to joined la fiesta by signaling the bartender with a hand gesture to bring more of the finest alcoholic drink in Sirius. Bartender noded and Cesar turned to Steve. "It’s time we finally speak, sí?"

---

Join the Corsair Brotherhood / [TBH]

[Synts]

Flipado!

There he is! I knew that number would get you moving. 38,852 pesos is a small price to pay for premium company, top-shelf rum, and the finest music this side of the Edge Worlds.

Besides, I only drank half of that. The girls? Well... let’s just say they toast to your name now.

I have a bottle ready and maybe a contract too, if we’re still doing business today.
Steve blinked at Cesar with the slow, disoriented grace of a man who had not only lost the plot, but misplaced it in someone else’s cargo bay three nights ago.

He squinted at the pink skull on the bill.
"Juanita has very... expressive handwriting," he mumbled, swaying slightly. “Aurora said she was a freelance accountant, by the way. That sounded legit at the time.”

When Cesar dropped the bill in front of him with the weight of a final judgment, Steve leaned forward, tried to focus, and then gave up entirely.
“Caramba indeed,” he muttered. “I’m not saying I remember everything, but I think we invented a new dance move last night. ”

He straightened up just enough to look serious or at least like he was attempting to simulate seriousness.

"But listen, Cesar, you made it and that means two things. One, you’re still a better man than I deserve to be doing business with. Two, finally, we get to talk. Real talk. No rum. Well… maybe one more for tradition."

He motioned to the bartender, then stopped himself.
“No, no. Bretonians or Rheinlanders, right? Got it. We’ll just put it on someone else’s tab this time.”

He leaned closer, expression sobering.

"So. Puerto del Sol. Phase Four. Whatever you've got planned , modules, power cores, black market dance clubs , I want in. Give me the list, the danger, the profit margin. And maybe… just maybe… a way to settle my debt with you that doesn't involve laundering napkins in the bar kitchen for six weeks."

He grinned , the grin of a man who had survived worse. Probably.
“Let’s do business, old friend. While I can still walk.”
Steve leaned in, elbows on the table, eyes half lidded but focused.

"Alright, Flipado... now that you've finally dragged your legendary Corsair boots through the door and I’ve drained half your retirement fund in rum , let’s talk real."

He waved vaguely at the bartender, who wisely pretended not to see him.

“I’ve been flying half my bones off, moving your reactor cores and interior nonsense, while charming half the women in Theta and getting shot at by the other half. Not that I’m complaining , I mean, I did get a thank you note written in lipstick , but I think it’s time we get to the part where I stop flying blind."

He leaned back, tapping the edge of the now , legendary bill.

"I want to know what this is really about. Puerto del Sol’s not just a resupply station, not anymore. You don’t upgrade a fortress like that unless you’re expecting one hell of a storm. And judging by the kinds of materials you’re asking for, you’re building something that needs to stand its ground against a fleet, not just survive.”

Steve’s tone softened just a bit.

“I’m not asking you to spill your whole plan over the table , though I wouldn’t mind if you did , but if I’m going to keep running point on this, I need more than coordinates and invoices. I need to know if I’m stocking a shield wall... or a powder keg.”

He paused, then smirked.

"And if it's the latter , well, then let’s make sure it’s a beautiful explosion."

He raised his now empty glass, gesturing vaguely for another.

“So... what's really going on, Cesar?"

---

I am not a native English Speaker, so i make grammar errors.
But it annoys me when people make silly comments about that... especially brits who for the most part can't speak their own language let alone anyone elses!