The Buccaneers Bay

[jammi]

John Crown sauntered up to the door, punched in the code, then gave the aged wood a hefty kick. It was renowned for sticking in it's frame, hence the additional force. On the other side John Morris had his dustbin-lid sized hand on his weapons holster, which looked like a toy in comparison to it's owner. Someone was going to have to buy him something more appropriate sooner or later.

As security John recognised Lieutenant John, what was possibly a smile broke over his face. It was hard to tell through all the scars. "S'good to see ya 'gain King" the giant rumbled. King was a nickname derived from the surname 'Crown'. Not particularly witty, but it worked.

"Yeah, it is" John replied, patting him on the arm (which sounded suspiciously metallic) as he walked past. The giant wrinkled what was left of his nose as his friend walked past and disappeared into the cloud of cigar and cigarette smoke that seemed to perpetually smother the place. His Waran had developed a problem after docking and had spilt a bucket-load of fuel all over him as he'd disembarked through the cargo bay.

He wandered over to the bar to greet the bartender, Charles Johnson, who somewhat resembled a ferret. "Y'right John? I'll get ya a drink." John slouched onto a chair, glad to be off his feet. The bartender placed a large mug of something that looked like rum on the counter as John dropped a few credit chits on the bar surface. "Whew, you smell like the inside of a Gas Miner's cargo pod... Shower's out back."

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