Meteora Bar, Planet Malta

[Death.RunningVerminator]

The door opened to the Meteora Bar, welcoming a not-so-frequent visitor into the atmosphere. The man was crippled, sat on a wheelchair and was being pushed by a servant. Along side him were the usual standard bodyguards that protected wealthy plantation owners. Though he knew he wouldn't be needing them, not here. While trying not to make a scene, the man brushed off his servant and rolled himself to a corner. The lighting was dim, and it was much quieter there. He whispered something to his bodyguard, and the protector went to get him a drink.

"Bartender, one Maltese Ale... And uh. Put something little extra in there."

He nodded, and proceeded to pouring a glass of Maltese Ale, adding an extra shot of Tequila.

"I'd drink it straight.. But.. This guy i work for.. Strange man.. There's just something about him that's.. a bit peculiar. But hey I'm not complaining. I get paid well. Anyways, thanks."

"Aye Senor, you have a good day now. Tell your boss I said hola, yes?"

"Mhm."

Drink in hand, the bodyguard went back to the man in the wheelchair.

"He said hello."

The boss looked at his guard sternly.

"Did you tip him?"

He snapped his fingers, forgetful, then went back to pay the bartender, adding a little extra as a token of good faith.