After passing by a kusarian girl, Colin walks through the main door. He was in his late 40s, and even though his face wasn't the prettiest one around, he definetly had that jaw. He was wearing his everyday jacket with over nine thousand pockets, old worn pants and some kind of military boots. And, of course, a hat. He took alook around and frowned slightly hearing Chris' guitar. How people can listen to this! No wonder that kusarian girl was in such a hurry to get the hell out of here. RIght, the people. He looked at each of the visitors more closely. Well. Kusarian girl. Wolf. Another kusarian girl. He was sometimes wondering if this sector isn't about to be overrun by those kusarian girls... Noisy musician. A discordian with strange glasses. "This is going to be fun..." - he muttered to himself and slowly approached the bar, carefully keeping his distance from the wolf.
A bottle of ale. As cold as possible. - as always after a long flight, he couldn't wait to get his hands on this drink. Much to his dismay, the Ray, his old, trusted Conference, wasn't big enough to fit a fridge with enough capacity to satisfy his drinking needs for more than a week. He sighed slightly. Such is the life of an adventurer. Either treasures, or drinks. He cursed silently at this terrible injustice and started to somewhat patiently wait for his drink.
