Tango bar on Java station // Since it seems there isn't any java bar WH

[Camille Gabriel]

Camille Gabriel

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The raw noise of foreign conversation settled over Camille's ears with all the finality of the incoming tide. Unfamiliar accents and the odd drinking song mingled with a heartfelt volley of profanity as someone shattered a glass, the maelstrom passing over the Gallic in a wash of meaningless sound. She waved off the bartender's attempts to press a mug of something that may have once passed within sniffing distance of alcohol in to her hand and elbowed her way through the press of miners, searching the crowd for a hint of recognition, some indication that Ryuho's agent had made the rendezvous. Not for the first time, she cursed the Order operative's insistence on secrecy. A meeting was all very well, but how was she to meet someone without so much as an outline of what to look for. She couldn't very well ask every person in the bar if they were an undercover agent.

Finally, she found a spare space atop the bridge between two booths and hauled herself up. It wasn't much of a seat, but it was better then the ever-so faintly sticky floor that gave her a reasonable clue as to what walking on treacle would be like. So perched, she could see a fair majority of the bar's patrons. Slowly, she raked her eyes across the mass of bodies, searching for some hint of recognition.

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Dulce et decorum est.
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