The Gold Tear Pub

[Vince Piccio]

"Just gold... to start with." He said with a mischievous glint to his eye. "Don't pretend we don't know that you're sitting one jump away from one of the largest producers of MOX in Sirius. But gold will do for now.

"As for a drop-off point, you can store it on Freeport 10 until we come to pick it up. I can also check to see if there's another place we have available, but I haven't received word back yet."

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[Andy]

and what fer price per shipm'nt did yer be havin'in yer mind? he said, leaning forward towards his geust,
we be needin'nough to cover the costs and some "extras" at the word extras he made the universal symbol for money with his right hand.

liam grabbed his pint, and raised it, to our future trading fortunes, and ofcourse the misseses

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[Vince Piccio]

"I was told around 15 million credits per load, for up to 5 loads delivered, would be about what we'd like to pay. Refined gold, mind you, not the raw stuff."

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[Andy]

after finishing that pint, wiping his mouth clean. he started talking,
oi, 15 mill'a'load? he grinned. I think we can do that.
consider yerselfs to be havin'a deal

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[Andy]

It's been a long time ago, time flies in prison.

the door of the pub opened with a slam, there in the entrance,
a man scarred and aged by prison stood, slowly walking in towards the bar.
a beer and quick he ordered, the bartender reconised the voice out of thousands,
Andy! he nearly shouted. where've yer been lad so long?

as Andy took the beer from the bartender and drank it as one of those expensive partyshots,
'quick and in one go', he replied; prison lad, prison. but times going to change 'round here.
the bartender grinned and walked along to the table that was considered mac'Ceallach property by everyone
in this pub. he cleaned it and nodded towards the rest of the bartending crew, then sat down to have a proper talk.

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