Barak finished reading the draft and making his notes, it was rather good. He sometimes took for granted Master Morimoto's skill at convincing people. He himself had been convinced to leave his kushy job in the Kusari Foreign Service to come and join the cause. Of couse he was an easy mark, son, grandson, and great grandson of farmers, his family had a large farm that his brother still ran, and the fact that he was looking for somethng to fight for, and this became it. Barak sent off the draft and notes to Master Morimoto, along with a few personal sentiments.
He then stood and walked over to a lovley mahagony bar that stood against the far wall of his wardroom, placed a small rocks glass and the bar and picked up a bottle of Irish whiskey. He looked at the bottle, it had been a gift from a freind he had made in the NLH. Slowly he poured himself a glass of the whisky and sat back down at the desk. He then opened a small wooden box on his desk, and removed a small white cigerette and lit it with a lighter from the box. Smoking was a bad ahbit he had picked up while on assignment on Ropongi Station, interdicting cardimine shipments. He didnt smoke often, but when he was stressed it made him feel better. He was stressed because he knew how important the draft he had just looked over was. The future of the AFA literaly depended on the draft. As he finished the cigerette, he put it out, and went ithrough the door of the ward room, into his personal quarters, deciding he would at least try to sleep tonight, an activity that had become more and more infrequent as things with the AFA progressed.