Drunken Sailor

[Reeves]

Fort Ramsey; Ontario System; Contested Frontier

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On the same kind of scale as a city inclined towards industry constantly hammered away, Ramsey was alive with all kinds of ambient commotion. The gears of this machine never stopped humming, it was the backbone that allowed the dreams of an entire people to stand. As such, it should come as no surprise that a person would need transport to travel between the various blocks. In practice, this ranged between shuttles and locally operated ships, to a mass transit system on rails and whatever people individually possessed. Morreti's preferred choice was a rather expensive and custom built jetbike he'd owned for over a decade now.

The elevator ride all the way up to the top floor of the Alliance building was uneventful, save for a few stops as other people got in to go to other levels. A few awkward smiles later, to the tune of some extremely out of date music, and he was where he wanted to be. When the door was in front of him, he firmly pressed the small green button to signal he was here and waiting. Since it was something of a night out, he'd dressed casually but preserved a few stylish elements. The dress shirt he'd opted to wear was mostly white, but the strip of fabric over which the buttons were sewn into was black with blue outlines. Simple black jeans neatly conformed with his boots, the ends of the leg tucked in. He'd also elected to keep his sleeves rolled up, not wanting to make any part of this seem formal or profession.

He could hear footsteps on the other side of the door, she was consistently quick about this.