Nelson's

[Benjamin]

Dave was a little vexed. He hadn't really wanted to see McMillan at all, he just wanted an excuse to drink a beer in the early morning without feeling like a washout. Just as he thought he'd accomplished his goals, he'd fallen into a conversation with some scruffy miner covered in sweat and technology, discovered that the beer here was actually terrible, and now McMillan himself had actually appeared.
But he wasn't so vexed. He'd made his millions with his charm and social graces alone. Well, that and many years of running an end-stage drug dealing business on Houston and Denver. But mostly his charm and social graces. With a quick cough for the benefit of those watching him, he straightened his tie and stood up to greet McMillan.

"Yo, McMillan. What's going on man, you runnin this place or somethin?"

"Little bit."

"Little bit? Look man, you gotta get some better beer, dogg. This stuff's warm and brown. Not a fan, man. I know some guys on Denver, from Jefferson Park. They make some real beer. I'll hook you up with a shipment. Alright."

Dave slaps an arm around McMillan's shoulders in his most practiced and inimitable style, making McMillan feel comfortable and relaxed, but the masculinity of the gesture also made McMillan feel like one of the boys, in on the secret, and a true player. He was wowed by Dave's pure, distilled charisma.

"So what's goin' on witchu man? How's things in Bret? You copin with this war and things man? All dem Hogosha comin down in to Leeds? You need a hand with anything man, just let me know and I can sort somethin out."

His 'buddy trust speech' over, Dave was on the move again, wheeling McMillan down to the table he had just left, sitting him opposite Mr Unusuall.

"Alright now all things aside, we just three junkers enjoying a beer now right? So let's kick back. But I'm buying us all whisky because the beer here is shocking."

---

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