A group of Corsairs entered the Cafe.
Some of them were wearing Brotherhood uniforms,
others had the Benitez family weapon painted on their flight helmets that they carried along.
They looked tired and beaten, clearly crawling straight out of the cockpit.
Gran Canaria became a beloved pit stop for groups like these flying home from missions behind enemy lines.
The large Corsair population made them feel like home, and the natural clean air of Gran Canaria was a happily welcomed change from the dry , dead air on spacestations or the dusty horrible climate on Crete.
They all sat down on a long table , and the bartender made haste to bring them drinks and tapas.
Among this fellowship was the Warrior knew as Baila Morena.
She wasn't partaking in the conversations, but seemed to be dazing her view around.
"Where is he" a little voice in her mind said.
It was very busy in the Cafe.
She couldn't see the person she was looking for.
''I need some fresh air" She said , and she walked towards the exit.
![[Image: zElBwT7.png]](https://i.imgur.com/zElBwT7.png)