Ethan took the coffee from the pleasant secretary. It was black and by the smell of it unsweetened. Not that he minded dark coffee, but this looked like motor oil. He took a sip, and smiled, trying to hide his disapproval of the taste.
I wonder what would happen if I asked for some gin.
Then another gunshot went off, and he quickly changed his mind. On the table in front of him were several magazines but he didn't bother picking one up. With so many people going in and out, some of them with holes in their foreheads, he figured it was best to keep an eye on his surroundings.
His stomach growled. It had been a while since he ate anything, and the last thing he did was a food ration on Freeport 1.
I hope this doesn't take too long, he thought to himself.
