Brotherhood Bar-Talks

[DarthBindo]

//~MaGiCtImEWArP~
The bar was only partially busy. Most of the patrons wore standard Corsair clothing, mostly sitting at or near the bar, drinking and talking boisterously, in the fashion of a thousand other bars on Crete.
But four sat at a round table mean for a dozen or so in the far back, discussing things among themselves in a familiar way. There was plenty of rum on the table(there were Corsairs, even when working), but it was interspersed among paperwork and charts, and the men and women back there wore uniforms.
Ezio Della Francesca strode in, in a black mood.
He'd countered an Elder on foreign policy, and worse, insulted an ally.
Hah, more like opprotunists.
And worse still, he had caved on his principles, and on a promise to the Junkers.
A true ally too, not just some jumped-up xenophobic traders looking to get rich.
He'd follow Montoya and the Council in the end, but there was still a chewing-out to get through, and hopefully he could argue his points, maybe sway things a little.
He picked up one of the bottles on the table and flopped down into an office chair.
He had an odd streak of morality, inherited from his father.
Innocents, gorramit. Probably children too.
He took a swig of the rum, then grimaced at the bottle's label before setting it aside. He had no idea when Montoya would arrive, and getting drunk wasn't the answer.
Sighing, he sat up and started into a pile of reports.
Paperwork. Bloody paperwork. Who would have known?
//~MaGiCtImEWArP~

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gone four years, first day back: Zoners still getting shot in Theta :|