Yoran enters the bar; he's still wearing the lower half of a pressurized flight suit, and he hangs the upper half and the helmet near the entrance door. The weary middle-aged man clears some dust from his wrinkled blouse, then heads to the bar with a tired pace.
"Oi. Gimme a... uh, I don't even know..."looks around,"...whiskey seems populat tonight, sign me in."He waits for his glass while scanning the room, and notices Matilda not far away."Well, if that isn't an unusual sight here..."he chuckles as he grabs his whiskey and walks towards her, taking a seat in front of her;"Good evening, miss. How do you like our fine estabilishment? Not the kind of refined place your family is accustomed to, I fear, but we're simple folks with simple needs."Yoran smiles at the young girl, then takes a sip from his glass.
