The Blue Lion

[Scott MacFarlane]

A tall, large man, built like a Greco-Roman wrestler with graying hair and goatee, and wearing a MacFarlane tartan kilt and Bowex Captain's jacket practically falls through the door. He's followed by a thin man in similar attire, a handsome, dark haired woman in a Bowex light jumpsuit, and a smallish, somewhat mousy, blonde haired man who doesn't look old enough to drink. Wearing a Bowex officer's jacket and slacks, his face is buried in a pocket date-PC. Behind them enters a tall, graceful, redhaired woman with the looks and poise of a model, but she stands-out primarily for being the only one not in Bowex attire wearing designer slacks and a white Delouse shirt made from Cambridge cotton. She bends over the last person to enter: A short bald man with a sharp beard and Bowex maintenance coveralls tied around his waist. He reaches up with a lighter to light the cigerette dangling from the red-head's mouth. The large man in front spreads his arms wide to all the patrons inside the Pub. His armspan looks as though he could encompass the entire room. He smiles broadly before he speaks in a booming voice.

"Alrighty lads and lassies! We had a good flight in from Gran Canaria! The Empress' Legs is open again! Ta celebrate, the next four rounds be on me!"

The patrons cheer their thanks as the large man looks around for friends to greet

"That's right lads! Drink up! Nothin ta worry over till tomm......err..."

He stops speakin suddenly when he spies the new "rules" sign

"Sullivan! Wat ta Hell is 'hat!", he says as he jabs a finger at the sign. "No sex behind the plant pots?? What are ye? Some kinda.....FASCIST!?

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