A screech cut across the bar as a metal stool skittered across the floor, coming to rest a comfortable distance from the bar. Under ordinary circumstances the thrower would have been pleased with her marksmanship. Today though, Ensign Jane Hartman simply slumped into the chair and signaled for two drinks. She didn't pay any particular attention to what she pointed at on the board, and to be honest, she couldn't have cared less. Hartman returned the bartender's familiar greeting with a strict nod, and curled her fingers around the table.
Silence pervaded the bar, as was to be expected at such a late hour, and the freshly-arrived Ensign did nothing to alleviate it. She took a long draught from one of the glasses, bringing the half-empty glass back to the bar with a resounding crash. Shaking her head, Hartman shifted slightly in her seat and surveyed the near-empty room, a look of intense distaste for the establishment in general etched on her face.