Preston turned into the bar tucking a freshly printed set of business cards into one of his suit coat’s inner pockets. As he looked down, the glint off a piece of metallic dust on his cordovan dress loafers drew a frown.
“Well, I don’t suppose this will do, will it?” he asked himself. He pulled a silk handkerchief from another coat pocket and wiped the contaminant away with an gruff expression mirroring the manner in which a mother scolded her children after an afternoon mud wrestling. The silk fabric found its way comfortably to the trash bin near the door.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Mortlock speaking with several individuals Preston had yet to meet. Preston kept his eye in their direction but moved from the hips toward a young woman carrying a platter of glasses.
“A glass of Chivas Regal Royal Salute if you have it, dear. If not, send word to the Judgment, and we’ll have you stocked properly before the night is over.”
He pushed his index finger along his brow to tuck his greying hair behind his ear.
“Don’t let the attending androids startle you, they’re quite friendly.”
Empty handed, but hopefully not for long, he returned to the gathering. Pulling a smile across his face, eyes squinting, he put his hands behind his back, bowed slightly, and made a slightly audible “hmph.”
“Mr. Mortlock, pleasure to see you.” To the others, he extended a hand. “Lawrence Preston. The pleasure is yours, I assure you.”
![[Image: QTMJiLb.png]](https://imgur.com/QTMJiLb.png)