Rochester Inn

[Trildor]

Walter sat back in his seat, sipping something that was most certainly not the Rheinland-brand beer he ordered. Was the blockade bad enough that he couldn't find the stuff even on a smuggler's hideout?

A loud man with an eyepatch came in yelling. Walter chuckled, since it wasn't unlike his manner when entering a new system. However, the drunkard's shouts started to annoy him more and more as the fool got closer to the bar, complaining about prison or something.

"Philips," he said to one of the four men standing guard around him.

"Yes, sir?"

"You see zat man over zere? Ze loud one, ja. Shut him up, please. He's bozering me."

"Aye sir, I'll see what I can do."

"Gut. Norrell, go viz him."

As the two Bretonians walked over to the bar, Walter noticed something and raised his palm to his face, but refrained from sending Roberts or Cardei over to them. Especially not Cardei. He'd probably chuck a grenade if the man so much as looked at him funny.

'Fine navigator, mein foot. Philips can't so much as remember his own pistol...' Walter thought to himself.

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{SOB} | LR | RFP