"Quite, a fine attitude to have, comrade." The Gallic drawled tiredly, clambering onto the stool.
"You headed him off magnificently by the way". Achille started again, sidling his conversation towards the Omicroner once the Californian had flounced out his periphery."...He's quite the cross examiner, persistent to his bone marrow and never takes insult no matter how many wineglasses you may sling at his face. Dieu only knows what prevents his parents from drowning him... perhaps they tried". He pauses, hazel orbs tracing the figure of Sean polishing the tap heads.
“…So.” Achille smiled, tracing his reflecting in the barface. “Which is it to be cheri, business or pleasure? You’ll find both here, be assured of that. But pray, before you answer, do enlighten a homesick patriot...”
"...Your from Marne, arn't you?"
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)