Remembering the year...

[Bazza]

I'd say you're right on the Congress line. I was kind of thinking the same thing but I just can't pick him out for sure. My recollection of names and faces has always been shocking.

Evangeline eyes around the room once again, keenly observing the activities of the people whom she'd identified as belonging to the Junker Congress - primarily the elderly male and the young woman he was attempting to woo.

I'm just worried that someone from the Congress is going to take exception to my being here and try to start something. You might have already heard from Bret, but, me and Crow and Co. aren't exactly best mates right now.

I didn't bring a gun because I know this is meant to be a social gathering but, well, I don't trust any of that lot further than the range of my P99. Wouldn't be the first time they've taken a cheap potshot at me, either.

Evangeline exhales loudly as she turns to face the bar and silently beckons the professional, ever attentive bartender. The man approaches her small patch of estate on the long front counter and asks the age-old question.

What'll it be?

Lemonade.

The sudden drop in pitch and added, deliberate roughness of her voice suggests she is perhaps impersonating or quoting someone, attempting to reproduce dramatic effect with variable success.

Ice. Cold.

The bartender, ignoring her lame movie quote, moves to the taps and pours Eva her lemonade, placing the glass in front of her.

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