When true hearts lie withered

[Zephyranthes]

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Valletta Shipyard | Habitat Quarter | "Avalon Dawn" Bar and Entertainment Complex
| 823 AS |

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As Felix passed into that den of vice and victuals known by the moniker so inelegantly bequeathed onto it by an over-sized neon sign, he couldn't help but instinctively hold his breath as he ventured into the room. True, the Maltese had been accommodating enough to ensure that this section of Valletta was not contaminated with the orange gas they so enjoyed and craved. But that didn't put him at ease enough to freely breathe their air. With short, silent breaths, noticed a small backdoor guarded by two particularly rough-looking Crusader guards. Figuring that this was the way to go, he began to push past the crowds of debauched drudges off their work and on their drugs and libation. Drunkards were amusing, but a pain in the ass to deal with when more important business was at hand.

Coming to the door, Felix flashed a small ID card to one of the men.

"Here to see Callahan. Was told to meet him here," he said tersely, continuing to stare perceptively at the guards with those icy blue eyes.

The men nodded, opening up the door that led to a flight of stairs that led to a far more quiet and luxurious section reserved for VIPs. It was relatively empty, save for a lone bartender and a small assortment high-ranking individuals who gave him looks of both suspicion and derision. Unsure of whether or not approaching them was a sound course of diplomatic action, the freelancer slid into one of the enclosed booths lining the walls of the area. Making himself comfortable, he waited patiently for his contact to arrive, all while keeping a hand hovering over his sidearm.