Barrier Gate Station West Wing Pub, The Lone Drunkard

[Vogel]

The pilot clicked his jaw and sat up. All of these ludicrously decked-out bastards were making him uneasy, to say nothing of the bartender who had slowly sunken away to wipe some glasses in the corner.

Well, might as well be on the side that doesn't suck.

He got to his feet and slowly walked over to the bartender, making sure to keep his distance from Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum with their suits of armor and guns galore. For his part, his lone sidearm, along with a handful of other hidden toys, was hardly a match. But maybe...

"Hey," he said in the tender's direction. With a flinch, the bartender quickly looked over his shoulder, then turned sour.

"Yeah, what is it?"

The pilot looked to both sides and frowned. "Wouldn't happen to have any... y'know... Insurance policy would you?"

The tender's features softened at first, then went sour again. "Needler rifle under the counter, but..."

"Figures," the pilot interrupted, "but no worries." He patted the gun at his thigh and shrugged, saying, "Anything happens, I'll give you a hand. Don't wanna see this nice place trashed, right?"

"Right," the bartender said, scowling, "Don't want to see anything trashed..."

"Alrighty," the pilot replied, smiling, "Now that we have an understandin', get me a Sidewinder Fang or somethin'."