The meeting was in a restaurant, the Queen’s Comfort, on Waterloo station. Lachlan chose it mostly because the Comfort was on a Libertonian owned station, and because the restaurant’s owner was Lachlan’s old friend and business partner. It wasn’t exactly what you’d consider a propper "upper class" establishment, but they were known for their good selection of drinks, a lot of discreet rooms and dedication to their guest’s privacy. Lachlan booked one of those rooms, named The Balmoral’s Lounge, for today’s meeting.
It was a cozy room, decorated in what Lachlan guessed must be one of the retro-modernism branches, a tangled web of styles which tried to emulate old earth from the pre-sirius times. Lachlan didn’t know how good this particular branch was at emulating the old earth’s “19. century aristocratic residence" as the restaurant claimed, but it was spacious, it had comfortable armchairs, and there even was a mockup of an ancient fireplace complete with a holographic projection of the fire.
The middle of the room was occupied by a large circular table, filled with all sorts of food and drinks, cold and hot, kept at a perfect serving temperature by the warmers and coolers built into the table..
Lachlan was sitting in one of the chairs next to the fireplace, a glass of gallic wine in hand and he was reading a book on the screen of his portable terminal. The others should arrive soon, but for now, while he was waiting for them, he could enjoy a bit of quiet, something he hasn't been able to do much lately.
