Freeport 10's "Sylvania Dome"

[Enkidu]

Achille blinked, somewhat perturbed that the traditional barman had found a source of distraction in the underage minor pushing at his side.

"Reece." The Burgundian enunciated, functionally prounouncing the duosyllables with an air of the resigned. "Ah, well, we all have our substitutes..." The Gallic grizzled, an opaque expression that could have been anything between resentment and dry wry, wincing at the cocktail spillage that crept fluidly over the bar as if in prelude to further alcoholic disappointments to come.

"...Hurry it along, if you would. And try not to refrigerate the red..." He demurred, rimming another's glass with the tip of a well-sculpted, petulant finger, before becoming faintly aware of some irksome emissions of noise within a discomforting proximity.

"Ah, an underling. Well, I suppose even drones require refreshment."


"...May you ask me a question, my fine collegue?" Achille emphasized, eyes thin and intolerant. "...Why, but of course, considering that you have already taken the liberty upon yourself. Fire away."

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's outlawed trade unions, determined to take the underworld for themselves.)

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