Florence looks up at the pope. "Uh, no thanks, sir. I prefer not to take drinks I didn't order from people I can't fire."
Petrov nods and waves a man over to the booth. The man is instantly recognized by the Raiders in the pub, some of whom raise glasses, while others salute or wave. "Harold," he says pleasantly. "Good to see you again. Please, have a seat."
"Likewise, Vadim. Last time I saw you, you were still pretending to be Navy," the man says, sitting down. He turns to the third man at the booth. "You must be Commander Keller. Taskmaster Harold Kane, Vagrant Raiders. Minister of Relations for Natio Octavarium. Vadim contacted me shortly before his... explosive departure from the Liberty Navy. While I definitely cannot openly condone the act, between the three of us, that was well done."
A waitress brings over a single tall menu and a glass of water, the latter of which she sets down in front of Kane.
"Order anything you two want, on the house," Kane says, smiling. "You two are some of our most esteemed guests on the station. Now, my apologies, but what is the name of the group you represent again?"
