Suddenly the bar patrons can hear the guards outside arguing with someone; the man tries to remain calm at first, but then he erupts. "I told you I have no weapons on me, and... get those hands down! Where did you learn your manners, on Crete?" The guards ignore his attitude and proceed. "Oh, fine! Here... see? No weapons. Can I go now, you bunch of rheinlandish brutes? Thank you!"
The man then enters the bar; the tall and lanky figure, dressed in white and wearing thin round glasses, notices some stares at his entrance and, without skipping a beat, heads to the bar counter. "Bartender? I'd like to have a round for all the fine gentlemen and ladies here, and a White Russian for me, thank you." With a practiced charming smile he takes his seat at the counter and glances around. His gaze is inevitably attracted to the brunette engineer a couple stools from him.
"What a nice evening, isn't it? Or whatever time of the day is currently logged onboard, it can be confusing at times. I remember a little incident that happened when I was on Curaçao, working as a diplomatic attaché... but I digress. My name is Erasmas de Shahrizai, charmed to make your acquaitance, miss." He makes the flashy smile again and stands from the tool, approaching her and offering a hand.
