The Blue Lion

[Scott MacFarlane]

MacFarlane clamped Aaron on the shoulder enthusiastically, hard enough to make the smaller man spill half of his drink. He smiled broadly.

"Oh do ye now? Know what ye be doin that is? That'd be a first." He laughed as he took the stool on the other side next to Peterson, who for a moment looked like he had seen a ghost in the racks of bottles behind the bar. Turning to face Sullivan he ordered his usual pint of dark draught.

The short bald man in Bowex maintenance coveralls climbed up onto the stool next to him. He was barely half his Captain'€™s size.

'€œWhisssssky'€ he hissed to Sullivan, then jerked his thumb to his right at the big man indicating it would be on his Captain'€™s tab.

Sullivan grinned. '€œGood news Munro. Got in some bottles of MacGregor. You want the first one straight as usual, then the follow ups on ice?'€

Munro perked up at the name of his favorite label. '€œAye!'€ he answered quite happily. '€œand keep '€˜em coming until I grows back me hair!'€

The redhead leaned in between MacFarlane and Munro and snuffed out her cigarette in the tray on the bar. She pointed to her Captain'€™s glass and in a Manhattan accent ordered the same, then she also jerked her thumb in his direction. She promptly turned around and fully leaned against the larger man, like she might a lamppost. As she did she surveyed the rest of the pub and asked:

'€œDid you boys hear something a moment ago? Sounded like an enraged bear, with his paw caught in a trap.'€

'€œNo I didn'€™t.'€ MacFarlane replied, a little testily. His expression had begun to grow increasingly sour by the minute. Maybe he'€™d made a mistake. One thing was for sure. It was going to be an expensive night.

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