Toledo Lounge

[quasi]

While the barkeeper quickly flushed used glasses, his head down, he almost smiled. Then he gave the penumbrous room a short glance from below looking for someone in need of another drink. 'Nohing's really changed on Toledo since then', he told himself while putting the glasses slowly away, one by one. He hated unnecessary noise.

The bottle of "The One and Only Overdue Vintage" the dark-haired woman has almost emptied shimmered in golden green reflecting the tiny beams of the newer little brass plates on the wall. All of them were engraved with now almost forgotten names. Some carried only callsigns. He sighed in cotent as he watched her talking with the man who called himself Christopher, obviously forgetting the bottle. It was hard to get that stuff at reasonable prices, and it was even harder to bring greater stocks of it out to Minor, though he would do almost everything to shelter his guests between their assignments, but rare stuff remains rare.

He looked at the main wall ahead and started to scan the brass rows as if he could read the gravures. One row, then another, and another. While he was continuing, their golden light soon merged in his head with pictures of men and women who had been guests here too. Some for quite a while, but must of them just for less than a glimpse of this war. Though each of them had been handpicked, chances at any time stood worse than one in a hundred to celebrate more than one perhaps two anniversaries as Order member. He put himself together again, before his visions could gain the special, additional flavour he had experienced himself once and feared now to recur all to real, purple lightshow, cries, frenzy, last babbles, and then silence.

Slightly he shook his head. Then he pumped up the music of an unknown artist he accidently discovered on New London some years ago. No one ever heard of him or his music, but it seemed to be composed for places like this. The artist had called it "Tranquilizing Psychtrip Pop" . 'For what it's worth.' He has never been into categorizing art, but whatever this sound might be, it was soothing at least. 'First they need a drink or two, as always, then they'll get some rest, and perhaps even sleep', the barkeeper thought and left the room for a quick stock revision.