"Ale is closer to beer. It's a bit fruity, with a bitter herbal accent." He looked into his glass. Only a quarter left. "I wouldn't get back to Liberty because Drake is one of our best fighters, and thumbing him down is a death sentence for anyone. One of the most flavorful people alive, I tell you."
Ling noticed one of the Junkers walk in. Mick, part of a trade union of some sort. Sometimes referred to as Mad Mick, mostly by himself and others in his trade group. Lots of wayward information on him, but not a lot of evidence of goals or the like. Keep an eye on him, but don't really bother yourself, Ling. Ling then mentally chided himself for not remembering that he was at a festival, and not on the job.
