"IS THERE ANY WAY A MAN CAN GET A DRINK AROUND HERE?" A booming voice calls out, belonging to a dishevelled old salt, wearing what's left of some sort of Colonial Uniform with a large backpack with the faint marking 'Helena'.
As he walks to the bar, he trips over something on the floor, gets up cursing aloud and waves a strange tool in the air.... "who left this here?" he looks over at the busy technicians, scowls, points at them. "Be more careful morons, where you leave your tools", he bends down to recover his backpack, turns to place it on the bar. "DRINK ... NOW" he yells as he lowers himself onto a bar stool.
Silently the barman hands him an empty glass and begins to fill it from an unmarked bottle, but is taken by surprise as the stranger grabs the bottle and says "start me a tab". He puts the bottle to his lips and takes a long draft, fills his glass and places the bottle next to his backpack, which is now wriggling violently.
leaning down he unclasps the cover, reaches in and pulls out a large purple cat wearing a black collar with some sort of badge attached to it.
He lifts the cat stares into its' eyes and says quietly "Well Ezzie it's just you and me now kid", places her onto the bar, lifts his glass and stares into the distance while sipping his whisky.