Manhattan bar

[Malaclypse 666]

:: Squinting against the noise and glare emanating from inside the screened, private bar, a foul-smelling cheroot clamped in the side of his mouth, the stranger pulled a sheaf of paper from the pocket of his flight vest, and perused the notes scribbled in the margins of the official-looking documents ::

"Lordy, Lordy,

Have I been accepted by the INDie Trade Group, or by the Order of Blind Bacchunalian Buffoons!?? Well, guess it's a little late to have second thoughts... I've placed a deposit with the insurance brokers, registered the old transport, and bloody well spent the "seed money" that mysteriously showed up on my Net account. Here goes nothin'."

:: Stuffing the papers back into he vest, Reginald "Pops" Waverly put on his best grizzled-yet-tough look, and advances into the private trader maelstrom-cum-bar. Amongst the motley assortment of revelers, he spies a lone female in the crowd, jaunty in her tailored uniform. Relieved that he actually might know someone in the crowd, he strides purposefully to where she is chatting and laughing with her companions. ::

"Ahem, excuse me. I'm guessing you're Caylith. We met at a distance out near Corfu a while back. I'm "Pops". I'd like to buy you and your mates here a drink or six, in appreciation of your kindness and help. And, if you'd point me in the direction of this CEO bloke Hoodlum, I think there's still some unfinished paperwork to complete. Once I've thanked him and Markus for their help, we can get down to the serious business of destroying some brain cells!"

:: As Pops finishes what is for him a lengthy verbal exchange, his nose wrinkles, and the deep creases around his eyes crinkle into a smile... ::

"Ahhh.. Is that a little hint of Kallisti Gold in the air? I was just introduced to the mixture a while back. Gave me a whole new perspective on my life! Guess it's all the rage now for us folk who have issues with a little "authority", and having the official "wool" pulled over the eyes. The Gold tends to make all the officious pompadookie look more like what it is.. pack of bloody lies. Almost makes ya wonder if this new crazy Lady Deity has the truth of it...."

:: Caylith laughs delightfully, and gestures in the direction of a nearby table. Surrounding the table are some seriously impaired fellows, in the last throes of mangling a serious discussion. ::

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