The Martinique Bar

[Lionel Bourcher]

Lionel wobbles as his feet hit the floor - his mag boots disengaged as he quite enjoyed the float to the alcohol dispenser.
Seems like they finally got the artificial gravity working! The money we have thrown into this place sure has gone a long way Emily, n'est-ce pa?

And this is not an uncommon thing amongst Sirians I must say - I've seen many raised eyebrows at what we Gauls find just, normal? Harmless even? I supposed after decades of doing things a certain way the line of what one considers "brutal" gets shifted greatly within cultures. I mean take it from my perspective - Lionel says enthusiastically as he makes his way back to Emily with drinks. We live in a culture where the Council found it normal to nuke their own people with such an overkill of a yield the planet is almost worthless to this day, where The Union will execute people that disagree with them without a real trial, Confeds saw it normal to gas and annihilate their allies, and I don't even have to talk about the former Royalists within and out of The Union - I am sure you are familiar with what they did to Leeds and tried to do to New London.

Boucher pauses, his expression of apathy doesn't show a hint of regret or anger, just a tranquil acceptance of the way things are.

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The entire Gallia just does violence...more...wholesomely it seems...at a different scale than what you Sirians are used to. Believe me when I say it's not fighters and little harmless mines we send when we want something gone or blown up for real.

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As he moves back towards Emily mid speech he notices Pierre Alard, toasting her from distance. The Principal is a dominating figure, his eyepatch and blonde hair make him stand out like nobody Boucher can remember. It seems like he has brought a proper human bartender to this ever developing place - a power move to say the least. Their eyes meet - Boucher pauses and then slowly bows his head in a gesture of respect towards the Principal. While keeping his distance and leaving Alard to approach him at his own leaisure out of consideration he turns to Emily.

You are a Corsican now - when it comes to making people gone with almost surgical precision I am sure us Maquisards are merely children compared to what your people are capable of. Something tells me that I wouldn't be standing here if you didn't hold back in our sparring bout! And I have a feeling your towering Principal didn't lose an eye playing with his pets.

But enough about me! I can't help but remain curious - how DID you find your way to the Corse? Why leave the relatively peaceful Sirius behind? You did start telling me on our Nox run through Kusari, but I recall getting too busy running my liner head first at that Golden Chrysanthemum to let you finish.

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