A maltese Freelancer enters the bar. He wears a black cape, which waves behind him while he walks. In the middle of the bar he stops and turns around himself, 'scanning' everyone in the bar with his lime-green eyes. His head stops when he noticed a middle-aged scientist in a white lab coat sitting at the table in the corner. He stares at him for a while, then he nods towards him and takes a seat infront of him. "Hola, David Campbell I assume? Nice to meet you. I'm Lee del Sol Verde (as you already know)."They shake hands, and the grey haired man starts speaking: "Your eyes tell me, that you've brought them to me. Am I correct?" Lee nods appointed and answers. "Si, claro." He gives the man a well-locked bag containing 'blue slime'. The man takes the bag, whispers something to Lee and leaves the bar while Lee stays, ordering a drink. He takes out a small book out of one of his many cape's bags, and opens it (#12).
"Well, there we go. Paid nearly all of the costs of the loan for that incredible Bayonet prototype." Bundschuh member Erich Klugmann mumbled aloud as he wondered what kind of drink he would procure, and how many of the local scientists he pondered that he could sway over to his point of view.
Entering the pub, he chose one of the far seats near a window with a choice view of the tumultuous Planet Steinfurt, a few Scientists offering him a polite wave which he was quick to promptly return.
It took the bartender a few moments too long to pour a sip of rum into that glass, hence why Andrew didn't feel the need to thank him anymore. Without dedicating him or the skinny man next to him any more glance he clutched the glass and went away, strolling towards the table of a man who was seemingly fascinated by the sight of planet Steinfurt outside the window. Andrew didn't know why, but this man had raised his interest in the very moment he had entered the pub. Maybe because he looked worth having a conversation with, unlike all the other people in the bar. Without asking whether he could take a seat, Andrew sat down and said: "Andrew is my name, how do you like Köln?"
Erich glanced over with a raised brow at Andrew's approach, immediately taking in his external appearance. "Not terribly fond of conventions of politeness, not having even asked to sit down. Perhaps it could be a sign of good intentions, or--" His gaze now swept over the scarred hand, his ears taking in the sound of the gruff voice. "He doesn't have the clean-cut appearance of the Rheinswehr, a Corporate Employee, or even a Hessian or fellow Bundschuh... He must be a Freelancer or something darker." Easily interpretable as nervousness or shyness, Erich at last began to speak aloud.
"Koeln is young, polar opposite of Omega-11. For me, however? The highlight of the system is this unique station, mein freund."
He was a considered mind Andrew figured, thinking before talking, the counterpart of his own straightforwardness, yet. "Eh, Rheinlander I see, spicing up your sentences with those weird Rheinlandish words... how am I sick of it..." Andrew's voice became more silent as he finished the sentence. He emptied his glass instantly and threw a quick glance in the direction of the bartender.On the other hand, you don't look like one of these pathetic Military or Police jerks either.. why else would you come to such a place, a safe haven for absolutely everyone..? So to say, this station is unique, yeah. So, if not the state, whom do you work for then?
Dr. James Halsey cautiously walked through the large sliding doors of the bar. The stench of alcohol and cheap cigars tickled his nostrils immediately, making his eyes water. The recycled atmosphere seemed to press against his temples, causing a slight nausea.
Halsey hated bars.
He walked over to an empty table, sat down, and signaled the tender to come over.
"What may ah bring ye, sah?" the keep asked.
"A beer please," Halsey replied with a fake smile.
The bartender walked away to fetch the drink. Halsey glanced around, looking at the few patrons that were there.
"I work for the Rheinsvolk, my good man. I work to secure their welfare, their inherent freedoms and human dignities, from Gottkanzler Rheinhardt's regieme. I am a member of the Bundschuh, mein herr."
"This kind of 'stock answer' should satisfy him.", Erich thought to himself as he offered the man a small smile. While he liked to believe that he could look beyond physical appearances to see the actual person inside, he quietly worried that he had fallen prey to judging people such as Andrew here on mere stereotypes.
Erich glanced out the window at a moment's break in the conversation, observing Planet Steinfurt as he sipped gently from a drink.
Andrew looked bored as the man spoke, he wasn't really interested what the man fought for or believed in. Especially not when he was one of these 'revolutionaries-fighting for the poor people's freedom-blabla-self-confindent-orator'. Andrew had genuinely never cared about individuals other than himself. "Mhmmm, hmm, yeah. You know pal, I'm new to Rheinland and its lovely people. And I lack relations with suitable people and therefore places of uhmm.. retreat. Where the 'Gottkanzler' won't be able to track me down. Does your... Bundschuh have control over any bases in this sector a man like me could possible reside at, hidden from the authorities' and their leapdogs' eyes?"
Erich observed Andrew's speaking posture and allowed a soft sigh to exude from his mouth. "Likely just a freelancer after all, then. Hopefully not some heartless self-serving bandit, like Rheinhardt. He merely lacks the impression of formality, if so."
"Do the Bundschuh possess bases? Perhaps, perhaps not. What is your story, then? What are you 'on the run' for? There is always Kreuzburg to hide within..."
Erich sipped from his drink once more, this time keenly observing his response.
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A Kusarian Freelancer walks in, looking cautiously around the place, unsure of the consequences of sitting close to someone.
He kept a cold, emotionless face as he went to sit in one of the emptier corners of the bar, and pulled out his data pad, making sure nobody could see what he was writing.
![[Image: Narcotic.gif]](http://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/Narcotic.gif)
![[Image: NbE3ZJ9.png]](https://i.imgur.com/NbE3ZJ9.png)
