Obviously tired man in Daumann security division uniform entered the bar. Each of his next steps further inside music-filled hall costed him more painful pulses in his head.
"- Drank too much yesterday Udo. Miner's Recharger isn't some weak Synthbeer." - the bartender said to him.
"- Not so loud. Geez, my head... Give me something for hangover and light breakfeast."
The uniformed pilot sat alone next to table in the corner and leaned against wall with closed eyes, trying not to think about the pain.
"- Here's the pill and tube of warmed up Steakpaste. Anything to drink? Synth juice from White Peaches, how about it?"
"- Just water. The only thing in that bar without "synth" in name."
"- Heh..."
"- Don't 'heh', mkay? I'd vomit all over your precious place if I drank synthetic juice in my state. It doesn't go too well mixed with alcohol."
"- Right."
Bartender went towards the bar and pilot noticed someone clearly not from Daumann watching news. He never saw him here earlier, and curiously stared at him when the transmission ended.
