It'd been some time since the Bar and Grill played host to anything more than the usual crowd. The newest addition to the staff, one Geoffry Harvard (recently removed from active fleet service), had taken to counting the empty seats to fill in time. He wasn't sure, but over the past few weeks Harvard had developed a certainty that one of them moved when he wasn't looking. In order to set the record straight the young man had placed a pale white line of the leg of the offending chair, and started cataloguing its location. It hadn't moved yet. Toying with him, undoubtable. Geoffry was about to wander over and give that damn chair a piece of his mind when he was interrupted by a cough further down the bar.
Lachlan Talmont arched a pair of dark eyebrows, as if to say What's the hold up? The younger man behind him was far more blunt, in keeping with the Naval uniforms both of them wore. " 'tender. Two beers, pronto." Tim Cochrane was known more for flying then his subtlety. In all honesty, Talmont regretted being assigned to the young pilot. Though equivalent in rank the the recruit, the former Junker wasn't exactly getting on with his co-pilot.
Still, a drink was a drink.
Talmont took his beer from Harvard without a word, making his way to the furthest possible table. Who knows, it might buy him a few seconds reprieve from Cochrane.
