Nelson's

[jammi]

John Crown wandered in with a small collection of other Buccaneers. Last time he'd been in at Nelson's he'd abducted a Corsair and weapons had been drawn. He was hoping for a slightly more peaceful time of things this time. Seeing as the Bay was now portable and... Elsewhere, Nelson's was the place to be on Trafalgar. Not that the Buccaneers were there as frequently any more.

He found himself a discreet table, with the other Buccaneers seating themselves around him. One lanky looking Prospect was perched on the edge of a stool, so John reached out to grab the chair by the leg and pull it over. The Prospect fell off with a squawk.

"Get up to the bar and get a round of drinks." A credit chit was handed over. "I want the change." The Prospect picked his way over to the bar counter. There was a man with a strange accent talking to McMillian, with the vacant looking bar hand standing nearby. It sounded like it might have been Bretonian once, but picked up a Libertonian twist.

The stranger turned to glare, with what John believed looked like dog's eyes. Huskies had eyes like that. The Prospect jittered at any rate. John also carefully noticed that the man had stopped talking as soon as the Prospect had approached. Cloak, dagger and subterfuge ready supplied. John wrote it off as an ego problem on the strangers behalf and turned back to the mob.

"You know, yesterday me and Mick were doing the rounds and two Congress ships tred to run us off Trafalgar! They're lucky we're fond of Junkers, because we colud've ripped the pair in two." One or two of the more gutless Buccaneers chuckled. "Worst part is, they didn't even know who we were!" The Prospect wobbled over with a tray of drinks then went back to get the second.

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