"Sean, a drink"?Achille smiled at his Bretonian friend. "Ah, merci."He nodded, refreshing himself with an irreverent gusto as Sean deducted an extortionate figure from Achille's credit card; not that he cared mind you.
"...I must applaud you on your sense of timing, old compadre, over that little debarkle. Member Gregar certainly makes quite the bouncer archetype, doesn't he? Commendable methodology regarding conflict resolution..."Achille traced the rim of his glass with a slender digit, frugally leeching as much liquid as he could.
"...Where did we find the man anyway? Omicron seventy-four? He's built like luchador with the finesse of Susan's python. When it comes to private security he's the difference between a cavalry charge and an armoured brigade, for love of Lucifer. And that, is quite an accomplishment, almost inhumanly so..."
With an impeccable sense of the moment Grengar returned to his station beside the bar, materialising with such rapidity that Achille nearly wobbled off his stool, surprise overwhelming balance.
"...Ah, whoa, well, see my friend? Dear compatriot Grengar... ahem, You are..." He rotated, facing the subject; "...A paradigm of your station, quite commendable." He complimented, before turning back to Sean.
Grengar merely nodded slowly, the cords of his neck writhing silently with the movement. After several seconds, outside conversation resumed, the towering man blending seamlessly into the backdrop as a mountain might among a terrestrial vista, quiet and inpertuable. Majestic yes, but seemingly timeless and immobile, which rendered any of the rare, dangerous movements the man did craft all the more insidious.
"Yes, quite a capable man, our compatriot, with traits to be admired..." To which Achille's mind appended silently;"...To our fellow employees. He's loyal, mute; cannot question commands yet only follow them like a panther on a lead. But yet again, we're all doggedly following something. Some love, some religion, others power. Personally, mostly power, but still..."
He trailed off, grinning curmudgeonly at Sean, sliding his (now dry) glass back at him.
"Thank you friend, may your wine-cellar continue to purvey such ambrosia."
A pause.
"...So my friend, how exactly flows the golden stream of life on the more tuggin' n' haulin' side of the Commonwealth's twin arms? Profitable, I hope?"
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)
![[Image: XTF1d6x.png]](https://i.imgur.com/XTF1d6x.png)