On the Crosspath

[Soban]

Mac Donagan was alerted to Burton’s arrival by a strident beep in his office. With visible reluctance, he folded the schematics he’d been labouring over—Och, how he hated bein’ dragged from a project mid-flow. It had been some time since he’d set foot on Livadia, and, as ever, he’d landed right in the thick of work.

He snatched up his datapad, re-lit his pipe, and left the shambles that was his office. Soon enough he’d clear some space, once the Vega Project files were shipped off to the archives in Corinth. Striding down the corridor toward the bar, he left a thin ribbon of smoke in his wake.

“Why is it always the same with him? He can’t waerk sober!”

Fuming nearly as much as his pipe, he pushed through the bar doors. Bracing for a long meeting, he ordered a Scotch on instinct before turning to greet Christian.

“Hell’s bells, Christian—long time nae see. Surprised ye managed tae find yer way tae this wreck,” he said, jabbing a thumb toward the Vega.